


Dragon Age - Orbs of Arastani

by beanball



Series: Trials of Cousland [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Action/Adventure, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fantasy, Forbidden Love, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-06 20:51:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 108,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20513321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beanball/pseuds/beanball
Summary: Finally available in AO3! It took me a few years, but at last this story is now here. Better late than never.The first book in the Trials of Cousland series:Taking place after the defeat of the darkspawn, a distracted Grey Warden finds he must embark on a quest to put the pieces of his life in place and save himself. He must search for her. He must find her. But even if he succeeds..then what?Can Morrigan even learn to overcome the struggle within herself and build a life with her warden? Can she accept living in his world, or will she forever just be the Witch of the Wilds, stone cold and unmoving?The witch must deal with a flood of new emotions all while she and The Warden must fight to save their son from a dire threat and save Morrigan from the Chantry and its templars that seek to hunt her down for being an apostate.





	1. Chapter 1

**Part 1**

His sword had never failed him. Not it all the battles he'd ever fought before. Not against the terrors in the village of Redcliffe, nor in the bowels of the Earth along the Deep Roads fighting the horrendous creatures known as darkspawn. His sword had never failed him. It seemed almost to be a magical gift, The Warden thought. He and his sword were one. There was a sort of effortless symmetry between blade and man as they cut their way from foe to foe in a macabre ballet. His sword had never failed him. Not until today. Today. For the first time. His sword failed him. And it cost a good man his life.

It had been several weeks since the armies of the darkspawn had been defeated, the archdemon destroyed by The Grey Warden, and the blight eradicated from the scarred face of Ferelden. The new king, Alistair Thierin, was busy organizing the rebuilding of his kingdom's ravaged lands. Bandits were rampantly preying upon the poor souls who managed to flee the blight before it destroyed their homes and towns. Alistair had dispatched The Warden to the southeastern part of Ferelden, to a small village named Frostcreek. The bandits were especially active in that region since it became a gathering point for refugees escaping the darkspawn; some from as far away as the city of Denerim far to the north.

Tents and small, hastily erected, shacks littered the countryside just beyond the village. The smell coming from the many refugee camps was that of fear and hopelessness. The ground was trampled and muddy from the constant trodding of both beast and man. The village, once considered a quaint getaway haven for some of Ferelden's wealthiest nobles, was now nothing more than an infested slum. Conditions were far worse than any of the elven alienages that were in many of Ferelden's larger cities.

The many hundred small fires burning in the camps began to cast a soft glow as night began to stretch it's dark fingers across the land. There was an odd serenity to the scene, The Warden thought as he sat on his sturdy wooden chair and looked out from his small cloth and leather tent.

The sound of men walking in heavy armor towards his tent alerted The Warden. Three men by his count. Two walking side-by-side and a third following slightly behind. The Warden had spent the last several days without sleep, fighting what seemed to him like every bandit that ever rode upon Ferelden. But that was pale compared to the man who approached him now. The Warden knew this was the final and unavoidable showdown he'd been regretting for several weeks.

"I knew I'd find you sulking about in here." Alistair said as he entered the tent, his two guards waiting outside.

"Your majesty," replied The Warden.

"Agh! You know I hate it when you call me that," Alistair quipped. "Maker's breath! I swear the only reason you put me on the throne was so you could torture me!"

"You know that isn't true, Alistair." The Warden said.

"I know. But you have to admit that you do like it, though. The torturing me part that is."

The Warden looked up at Alistair and smiled. The man everyone else thought of as the king of Ferelden was The Warden's most trusted friend and ally during the last dark months of the blight. They had a special connection that few men ever understand. The kind of connection that only comes from facing death together on numerous occasions and always finding a way to come out the victor.

"I only have a few moments," Alistair's said, his tone becoming serious, "I just wanted to see if you were ok. I heard about what happened to Finneas."

The Warden's gaze immediately dropped at the mention of the name. "Finneas was a good man." was all he uttered.

"It wasn't your fault, you know."

"How, Alistair? How was it not my fault?" The Warden said, as he raised his head to meet Alistair's gaze. "You weren't there. I was the one who lead the attack on the bandit's camp. It was my responsibility." The Warden's focus again returned to the ground, "It was my mistake that cost Finneas his life."

"True, I wasn't there. But I know you," Alistair said as he sat in the chair next to The Warden, "And I know you are my most capable commander." Alistair paused for a moment to consider his next words. Something that he had never been too particularly good at before, but prayed just this once he would get it right, "You've seen men fall in battle before. And Finneas is no different. He died protecting what he loved. He died a good death."

"It doesn't feel the same." The Warden said softly.

"I know you've been under a great deal of pressure. We all have. The blight may be over but our work is just beginning. We've got bandits and plague to contend with as well as rebuilding villages all across Ferelden. Orzamar is requesting help to deal with yet another darkspawn attack. They're making a push up through the deep roads. Then there's the little task of rebuilding the Grey Wardens..."

"I know, Alistair." The Warden said as he met the king's gaze, "I'll be alright. You know you'll have my best."

"No," Alistair replied, "I won't have your best. I haven't had your best in some time." Alistair rose from his chair and stood, staring out the front of the tent as if thinking about things long in the past, "I thought that maybe you'd forget by now, that you would at least be better. I had hoped, anyway."

The king turned around and faced his friend, "Don't you think I know that you scour the refugee camps and comb whats left of the towns searching for something, anything, that might lead you to _her?_"

The Warden of course knew that Alistair was right. While he may have survived the final, climatic clash with the archdemon, something inside him died that night as well. For it was not long after the battle that she left, just as promised, never to be seen or heard from again. And The Warden had felt incomplete ever since. He had spent long hours searching for any morsel of information that might lead to her whereabouts. But time and again all he found was a cold trail. She had even given him an enchanted ring that created a link between them, but it rarely worked anymore. And even when it did all he knew was that she was thinking of him and maybe that she missed him. But he wasn't sure.

"You know I've done what I could to help you find her. We've searched the Korcari Wilds for days and found nothing but Flemeth's abandoned hut. I've sent men out to hunt down even the smallest rumor or clue. But I can't do it anymore, Dwemer. I just don't have the men or the resources. They are desperately needed here."

"I know," The Warden said, "and your help is greatly appreciated, Alistair."

"Look, your head hasn't been right since we drove the last of the darkspawn from Denerim. I need you. People aren't looking to me as much as they are you. To them you are a savior. The Hero of Denerim is what they call you. You give people hope when they think they haven't anything left at all. I need your help to rebuild Ferelden. We all do." Alistair explained, "She doesn't want to be found. She told you so herself but that's something you'll never accept. I know that now," Alistair paused and took a breath as if to summon up the courage, "which is why I am removing you as head of my armies in the southeast. Ban Thailenari will be taking your place effective immediately."

"What?" The Warden blurted out in disbelief as he lept from his chair, "Alistair, you can't be serious!"

"I am serious," Alistair said as he placed his hand on The Warden's shoulder, "We both know you're distracted and I need your full focus now more than ever."

"What are you saying, Alistair?" The Warden asked

"I never actually thought I'd find myself actually saying this...but..." Alistair hesitated, then reluctantly continued, "go, my friend. Search for her. You're no good to me or anyone else like this. Go find Morrigan."

"I can't do that! There is too much to be done here in Ferelden for me to just leave."

"Thailenari is a good commander and the men respect him. Far be it from me to tell anyone, especially you, what's right and wrong. But I know that you need to do this, even if you don't. We'll manage without you." Alistair said, a small glint appearing in his eyes, "Call it a repayment for you're making me king."

"You're never going to let me live that down are you?"

"Never."

* * *

The Warden had just finished stuffing his pack with all the essential items he would need and was placing it on the cot when Alistair arrived.

"Oh, look." Alistair said, "Another drab-gray morning. It's getting to be my favorite color, you know."

"Good morning to you, too." The Warden replied

"I see your packed so I guess that means you're off then. Any idea where to?"

"I heard Leliana went west, towards the village of Terwir. She might be helping to re-establish the Chantry there. I figure that's a good place to start."The Warden said as he tossed his pack over his shoulder.

"Leliana? Why her?" the king asked, puzzled.

"I saw her and Morrigan talking in camp the night before Denerim. It's a long shot, but it's all I've got right now."

"And if you do find Morrigan? What then? What do you even expect?"

"I'm not sure. But you were right. I need to at least try to find her." The Warden said as the two men walked out of the tent and headed for the small dirt and mud path that led out of the encampment.

"This is as far as I can go, my friend. I can help you when you save the world, but saving yourself...that you get to do on your own." Alistair said, holding out his hand towards The Warden.

"Thank you for everything, Alistair." The Warden replied as the two men clasped forearms and parted.

"I know this was my idea, but try not to be too long about it. Remember, Ferelden needs it's Hero of Denerim back soon...and in one piece. And tell Morrigan that she owes me one. Bloody witch never liked me anyway." Alistair quipped only half-sarcastically.

"She liked you well enough."

"Oh, really?" Alistair asked, surprised, "And what makes you say that?"

"She didn't slit your throat while you slept." The Warden answered with a wry grin.

"How very comforting." Alistair said with more than a bit of uneasiness is his voice..

* * *

It took The Warden three weeks to track down the bard named Leliana in western Ferelden. But he had finally located her just south of the village of Haven. He had been told that a flame-haired priest from Orlais had set up a temporary chantry to serve the refugee camps in the area. He would be there by nightfall and hoped his path would lead to some answers.

The Warden walked into the camp at dusk. The camp itself was like those found all across Ferelden; filled with miserable people with hopeless looks on their faces for as far as the eye can see. His source had told him that Leliana could be found near the center of the camp by the main bonfire

He was still wearing his helm so that people wouldn't recognize him and fawn over the Hero of Denerim, or at least that's what told himself. In reality he was ashamed. Ashamed of his own selfish needs. His gaze never met that of another person, man or child, as he made his way to the center of the camp. These people suffered and it was his duty as a Grey Warden to help. And yet he willingly neglected that duty for his own gain.

"Damn you, Morrigan." He muttered to himself.

There was a large bonfire in the center of the camp that stayed lit through all hours. Beside which was a large circular white tent that was sparingly decorated with a variety of religious symbols. And while it was not a large or grand chantry, it seemed to serve the needs of those in the camp. There was even a chantry board posted just outside the entrance to the tent that listed several jobs the chantry had to offer.

The Warden pulled back the tent flap and entered removing his helm as he did so. In the dim candlelight he could make out two figures in priests clothes. And while all priests in Ferelden are female, he was certain neither of these were Leliana.

One of the priests turned to face The Warden, saying, "I'm sorry but the revered mother is away at the moment attending to an urgent matter elsewhere in the camp. Is there something I might be able to help you with?"

"Thank you, but I wasn't looking for the revered mother. I was wondering if you might have a priest here by the name of..."

"Dwemer!" Came a shout from behind The Warden. And before he could prepare himself she was upon him, wrapping her arms around him in a big squeezing hug.

"Leliana!" The Warden exclaimed.

"_You_ will address her as 'revered mother' and by nothing else," one of the priests commanded.

"_He _can call me whatever he wants." Leliana shot back in her thick Orlaisian accent.

"What? You're the revered mother?" The Warden could hardly believe it. Sure, Leliana had always put a great deal of trust into her faith. But he still had a hard time picturing her as a revered mother of the Chantry. "How...?"

"Is it _that_ surprising that I'm the revered mother?" Leliana replied in mock anger.

"No...No, I suppose not..." The Warden stammered.

"Revered mother, who is this man?" one of the priests asked.

The Warden placed his finger to his lips making the shush gesture, his back turned so that only Leliana could see him.

"This is a dear friend of mine from Denerim who I haven't seen in a long time. Now if you'll please excuse us." Leliana said as she and The Warden walked out of the tent.

The pair made their way to the bonfire. A bench made from scrap pieces of wood offered them the only place to sit. Leliana was the same as The Warden last remembered her, which seemed like years ago even though it had only been a few months. She was just as giddy and talkative as ever.

There was a time when he would only half-listen to the many tales that she told around the campfire. But that night he listened intently to every word she said. He had forgotten how to enjoy the simple things, and she was reminding him. Just like she always did.

"After the blight there was a shortage of available priests to offer services to those who had lost everything. I was chosen to head this chantry because of my role in aiding the Grey Wardens at the Battle of Denerim." Leliana explained, "I guess I have you to thank for that."

"You don't need to thank me. We wouldn't have been able to do what we did at Denerim if it weren't for your help." The Warden said.

"But you didn't come all this way to hear about me. You've had the same look all night. I know that look. You have something on your mind." Leliana always did have a way of seeing right through him.

"Is it that obvious?" The Warden asked.

"Considering you look like hell, and there's a rumor that the Hero of Denerim hasn't left his tent in weeks..."Leliana pondered, "then it can only be one thing."

"And what would that be?"

"Morrigan," Leliana answered, "You're looking for Morrigan aren't you?"

"Yes."

"I don't know how much help I can be, but I will try. What do you need?"

"I need you to tell me what Morrigan said to you the night before she left." The Warden asked, "That night in camp I thought I saw you two talking. If she told you anything or gave you some sort of clue as to where she might be going..."

"I am sorry. But she did not tell me her any of her plans. I did not find out that she was even leaving until afterward." Leliana said, "but I will tell you what she said to me and maybe that might help." Leliana paused briefly as if realizing something, "Come to think of it, she was acting rather odd that night."

"Odd? How so?"

"It's hard to explain. But she seemed different. Almost like she was worried about something. Not about her concern for you. But something else. I'm not sure what it was. Let me tell you what happened and maybe that will explain it."

* * *

Leliana's feet were killing her. They had been marching relentlessly for two days in order to face the darkspawn horde at Denerim. The next day would bring the final clash against the archdemon. But for now, she relaxed by the warmth of the fire. Leliana was not unaccustomed to war. To the contrary. She was a formidable opponent on the battlefield. And she knew that thinking about the battle to come was fruitless. Until that time she would rest and focus herself.

"Leliana?" someone said from behind her. She turned to see Morrigan standing just at the edge of the fire's glow. Morrigan normally stayed by her own fire, away from the others, even when The Warden was in camp. Most often making him come to her. And she rarely spoke to anyone but him, unless she was being cruel and manipulative. "I would have a moment to speak with you."

"Morrigan, I really don't have the time..."

"Please." Morrigan said softly.

That one word cut through the bard quicker than any steel. Never before did Leliana hear Morrigan utter it. And worst of all, the earnestness in her voice told Leliana that she meant it.

"Is something wrong?" Leliana asked the mage, genuinely curious.

"If one more person asks me that I swear I shall set their hair on fire!" Morrigan fumed, instantly returning to form. "However, 'tis not what I wish to discuss."

"What is it, then?"

Morrigan turned her gaze away from Leliana, "I wish...only to talk." Morrigan's normally smooth and eloquent demeanor vanished. This too was new.

"You want to talk to me? What are you up to?" Now Leliana was completely puzzled. Morrigan could be more cruel and cunning than any person she had ever met. And Leliana was more often than not the favorite target of the witch's. Morrigan never even called Leliana by her name, simply referring to the bard as "that girl".

"I am...not good at these sorts of things. I've never had reason to be before." Morrigan said as she looked into the flames. Her radiant, golden eyes glowing in the light. "'Tis no secret that we've not been close, you and I."

"Is there a point to all of this, Morrigan?"

"Please. This is important." the witch said, pausing for a moment to regain her composure,. "You were both right about me. I was being...selfish." Leliana could hardly believe her own ears. Did she just hear Morrigan admit to being selfish? "He cares for you very much. He trusts you. I...I just wanted to tell you that I do not mind your friendship with him."

"Why are you telling me all of this?" Leliana asked, unable to grasp the witch's game.

"I have been cruel to both you and your comrades. My comrades. I was jealous of your friendship with The Warden and displayed myself in all sorts of terrible ways. But tomorrow he will need you. He will need all of his friends. You make him stronger."

"He makes us stronger, too.." Leliana said, "That's how friendship works."

"I have never had friends so I would not know." Morrigan said softly, "'Tis all I wished to say." The witch turned and walked slowly back into the night, back to her own self-imposed exile.

* * *

"And that was it." Leliana said, "We never spoke again after that." The Sun was starting to rise and the first faint light of day was beginning to trickle in. The bonfire from the night before had been reduced to smoldering ashes. They had talked all night and The Warden hadn't felt this good in a long time. He and Leliana had had many such talks in the time they had known one another, but this was perhaps the most important, he thought.

"I could tell she was genuinely worried about you. Whatever you believe her motives were, Dwemer, you have to know she truly cared." Leliana said with that comforting look that only she could give. It had been too long since he had seen it. "Maybe it's best that you don't find her. I did not get the impression she wanted you coming after her anyway."

"So everyone keeps reminding me. But what am I supposed to do, Leliana?" The Warden asked as he stood from the bench. "She's all I think about. Night after night she haunts my dreams. I see her in everything. In everyone."

"There is a saying in Orlais: No matter how beautiful the rose, you have to let go eventually or the thorns will make you bleed." Leliana's gaze meeting his as she spoke. "You are a very dear friend to me. We have helped each other face many hurdles. But I can't help you with this. Only you can decide whether you want to bleed or let go."

"I'll bleed."

* * *

The Warden had been heading north, toward Orzammar, when he received word from Wynne requesting that he meet her at Circle Tower. So The Warden set off eastward. Towards Lake Calenhad, a journey of several days.

Circle Tower was still in good condition as this was one of the areas least affected by the blight. Circle Tower's scars might not have been visible on the outside, but they ran deep. The last time The Warden was at Lake Caldenhad, the tower was dealing with turmoil from within. Turmoil that claimed the lives of many mages and threatened to collapse the Circle of Magi itself. He had killed the demon responsible, having to make a journey to the fade to do so.

As The Warden approached the tower he noticed several well-armored guards standing at the entrance to the base of the tower. The royal coat of arms proudly displayed on their breast-plates. "Alistair..." The Warden muttered to himself as he made his way toward the heavy wooden doors. The guards eyed him suspiciously as he opened the door and went inside.

"It's about time you got here." Of course it was Alistair who greeted him first.

"Sorry to keep you waiting." The Warden responded with the typical sarcasm that had always been a part of their banter. "I didn't even know you'd be here." he said as he reached out his arm to greet the king.

"We found something. Something that might be useful in your search."

"What is it?"

"We found a map." Alistair said with a wide smile, "It's an old map. Maybe a thousand years or more. At least that's what Wynne thinks."

"Wow. An old map." The Warden's reply thick with sarcasm. "So in case I need to ever know where the roads used to be."

"Will you be serious for a minute? The map's enchanted."

"Enchanted? How so?"

"I'll let Wynne explain that part. Mainly because I didn't understand it when she explained it to me." Alistair said as they started up the long flight stairs that lead to the top of the tower.

"Where did it come from?" The Warden questioned.

"We're not really sure were it originated. It was located locked inside a chest in an ruined temple in the eastern Bracilian Forest. Near the coast. I might tell you about it sometime. It's really quite an amazing story." Alistiar explained as they climbed the stairs, "How we got it isn't as important right now as what it does."

Upon reaching the end of the staircase, The Warden and Alistair were greeted by an apprentice mage. She was a young woman with blonde hair that was intricately braided and rolled into two small buns as was the fashion for most Fereldan woman. "I am Nirfil, Enchanter Wynne is expecting you. Please come with me."

Nirfil led the two men down a long, arched corridor. At the end was a single metal door. Nirfil gracefully opened the door and gestured the men inside. The Warden entered the room and was greeted by tables covered in books, scrolls, and all other sorts of arcane texts. Large bookshelves lined the room in rows. This was no doubt the Circle library.

"Do you remember what you were doing the last time we were in this room?" Alistair asked The Warden.

Yes, I do. It's nice to see they cleaned it up since we were here last." The Warden's voice once again brimming with sarcasm. Of course The Warden remembered this room. This was the room where he and Morrigan had shared their first kiss. It was a brief and unexpected thing, but The Warden cherished the memory as one of his favorites.

"Dwemer, so good to see you." A woman said as she raised her head from behind one of the stacks of books that lay on the table she toiled at.. She was an older woman, with flowing white hair and an ornate robe that proclaimed her as an Enchanter. This was Wynne. She had been living in the tower most of her life when The Warden first met her. While their first meeting didn't go well, The Warden in time came to rely on Wynne's wisdom and quiet strength. She provided invaluable assistance in helping The Warden gather the armies Ferelden needed to face the blight.

"Come here and see what I've found out about the map." she said, gesturing the two men closer with her hand.

As the two neared the table, Wynne began to carefully unroll what looked like a large piece of parchment onto the table. "This map is over two thousand years old." Wynne said, "predating even the Tevinter Imperium. From a time far before the first Age."

Wynne continued to explain that the map was from an ancient city-state in western Thedas that had long since faded into history and that it's purpose was to locate things which could not be located otherwise. Whatever those things might be. Magical lyrium had been folded into the paper and added to the ink as the map was made giving it enchanted properties.

"So how do we use it?" asked The Warden as he stared intently at the many small runes drawn onto the surface of the map.

"There's the crux," Wynne answered, "You can only find the object that seeks to be found. If the desired location was never intended to be revealed then the magic of the map will be prevented from working."  
The Warden was sure that in her heart Morrigan wanted him to find her. It was the only thing that kept him going all these long months of searching.

"We will also need several components for the spell to work properly. Most are simple enough ingredients but will take some time prepare. But I need something that binds you and Morrigan together. Something that is hers but something that is yours as well." Wynne said as he thumbed through several tombs of knowledge to double-check herself. "I'll need to use the ring she gave you, warden. But know this: whatever answers the map gives or doesn't give you, the ring will be destroyed when the spell is cast."

"So we get one shot at this. Just like always" Alistair said with a half-grin.

"How long before everything is ready?" The Warden inquired.

"Tonight, when the sky is in full darkness. Halfway between nightfall and dawn, only then can the spell be cast and the enchantment invoked. That is when we will proceed." Wynne said with a seriousness in her voice that made The Warden uneasy. He had never allowed himself to get his hopes up before. But those same hopes that had been crushed and hidden away for so long began to creep out, despite The Warden's best efforts.

"In the meantime, warden, we have not seen each other in some time and it would be good to talk." the Enchanter's voice was almost motherly at times. Wynne had indeed become a sort of mother figure to The Warden. They first met not long after the death of his real mother at the hands of Lord Howe's men.

They walked along the corridors of the tower until they came to an unassuming wooden door. This was Wynne's office. It was were she could be found when not in the tower library or teaching apprentices the fundamentals of the magic talents that they possesed.

"Come, and sit" Wynne said as she pushed a pile of books off of one of the chairs that was in the small and cluttered room. "Don't mind the clutter. I have something I need to talk with you about. Something I need to tell you."

"What is it?" The Warden questioned.

"It's something I promised I would never tell you. But it's also something I should have told you long ago."

"I don't understand, Wynne. What are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying that I was the last to see Morrigan. I saw her as she made her way out of the castle at Denerim."

"What?" The Warden asked, shocked. "Why didn't you ever tell me this before? Did you talk to her? What did she say?"

"She made me promise to never tell you what I saw or what was said. But I'm too old for secrets now. Too old for games. And you...you were in love." Wynne's eyes seemed to drift off into the distance. To another time and place. A sentimental place that the old mage hadn't been to in years. Wynne had initially been the strongest voice against his joining with the witch, but in time she became warmed by the couple as they grew towards each other. She would become the only member of his party to speak out in his defense on the matter.

* * *

"Why do they always have to have a celebration after a battle?" Wynne asked herself as she quietly made her way from the main hall, which was still a bloody mess from the battle, to the servants entrance on the side of the main building. It would be quiet there; no gleeful revelers to contend with.

Wynne understood that these people were celebrating their very existence, that Ferelden had come to the brink of the abyss only to be saved by the efforts of one man. But there were many wounded and killed. They made the ultimate sacrifice in defense of their families and homes. Where was their celebration? But such is the way of things. So let them have their celebration tonight, she thought. The mess will still be here tomorrow. And it will remind them of what they've lost.

The old mage sat in the western garden of the palace in denerim. She looked up at the stars, which were frequently covered by smoke, and wondered if the Maker even noticed. Wynne stayed there in the garden for some time. She contemplated many things.

Some time had passed at she thought to retire. She was still a capable mage and one of the most competent healers in all Ferelden. But even she would tire. And there was still so much left to do. There was always need of her.

As she began to rise from the marble bench on which she sat, she heard soft footsteps. As if someone was walking barefoot across the stone floor and they were about to exit the main building into the garden where she was. "Darkspawn." The old sage said to herself as she grasped her staff and began to channel it's power. "Shal'Karhum!" she said aloud and the tip of the staff burst into a bright blue light that lit the garden as if it were day, revealing the "darkspawn".

"Morrigan?" Wynne asked, "Is that you? Where are you going?"

"I am taking my leave of you. _All_ of you." the witch hissed.

"Did something happen?"

"'Tis not your concern, old woman. Suffice to say that the day has been saved and the battle has been won. My services are no longer required, therefore, my presence is no longer required." Morrigan hissed again. This time with an even more serpentine venom, as she quickly made her way past Wynne and towards the garden gate that led out of the palace.

"Does he know?"

Morrigan stopped at the mere mention of him, her feet suddenly frozen to the cold stone.. "Yes...and no. He knows only that I am leaving, though, not when. I would prefer to avoid any …..awkward goodbyes."

"Did he ask you to leave?" Wynne asked, puzzled.

"No."

"Then why are you leaving? You and The Warden have obviously become very close. Why would you leave now?"

"Why can you not mind your own business, old woman?" the witch had once again found the strength to pry her defiant feet into motion.

"He loves you." the old sage said, "I know you would never allow him to tell you such a thing, but he does."

Morrigan's feet betrayed her once more. Her head dropped, eyes closed. "Is this what it feels like? I have no experience at such things. I thought that it might be. I had hoped."

"He'll look for you. He'll move the Earth to find you."

"I know. But in that endeavor he shall fail. He must fail. For us both."

"Do you really believe the man who gathered the armies of Ferelden to face the darkspawn in a matter of mere months; who, with his own blade, drove life from the archdemon itself," Wynne said, with a distinct air of certainty, "and who took a vile creature from the wilds and taught her what friendship compassion and love were...can't find you?"

"He cannot save me. No matter how much he might wish it. No matter how much...how much I might wish it." Morrigan spoke softly as she turned to face the elder mage. "I cannot change what I am. He cannot change what I am." Morrigan paused briefly, she had finally found the strength to move her feet once more. "I would trust that you make no comment to him about our...talk?"

"I will tell him nothing. But know this, Morrigan: You nor he can change what he is either."

The witch silently nodded. Somehow she found the strength to move her feet once more. And she was determined not to let them stop this time. Not until she had reached the gate, opened the latch, and walked out of his life.

* * *

"And then she was gone." Wynne finished as she and The Warden sat in her office in Circle Tower. "I told her I wouldn't tell you. But I broke that oath. I do not do such things easily, or without reason."

"What do you mean?" The Warden found himself more and more puzzled by the old mage's words.

Wynne gathered her thoughts briefly, then began to speak. "I didn't find out about the ritual between you and she until after Morrigan had left. And, as you know, I was opposed to the idea. While I cannot ever condone the use of blood magic, that is not my primary concern." Wynne placed her hand on top of The Warden's, squeezing slightly. "It is your destiny to kill the archdemon. You merely postponed the inevitable. I am certain of this. I have no doubt that you will find your Morrigan for her destiny is entwined with yours. I believe she knows this as well as I. I believe that is why she left. She knows that someday you will have to face the archdemon again. And to defeat it, you must destroy yourself."

"What would you have me do, then?" The Warden asked as he stood from his chair.

"Come, the preparations should be nearing completion and the time is almost upon us. We must be going."

* * *

A large stone altar lie in the middle of this otherwise ordinary room. Upon the altar the map had been unfurled and placed. Five white candles had been lit and placed around the map. On each corner of the altar rested a small jar of oil. The Warden was unsure what kind of oil had been placed in the jars, but it's aroma suggested he was better off not knowing.

Wynne stood behind the altar. Her arms were raised in the air, her staff in one hand. She was reciting ancient incantations. Incantations that had not been heard on Ferelden in over two thousand years.

To The Warden's side, as always, was Alistair. "And what if this doesn't work. What then?" he whispered towards The Warden.

The Warden simply looked at his friend and smiled.

"Ah...right." was all Alistair could say, only half-understanding.

Wynne grabbed a torch from its place on the wall. She went to each of the jars of oil and lit them. The oil burned brightly and cast off a faint green smoke and stunk of burning hair. After each of the jars had been lit, Wynne replaced the torch to its spot and returned to her place behind that altar.

"The ring!" Wynne said firmly, holding out her hand.

The Warden slid the ring from his finger. It was the first time he'd removed it since she first gave it to him. He wore it always and it was his most cherished possession. It had even saved his life once. When he had been imprisoned for the murder of Lord Howe. Visions of the night she had given him the ring now filled his head. Memories were all he had left of her. He gripped the memory tightly, determined never to let it go. He slowly and reluctantly placed the ring in the palm of Wynne's outstretched hand. Alistair, for once, had nothing to say.

"Let him who seeks that which cannot be found be shown the way! Let the path the does not exist guide him!" Wynne said aloud as she tossed the ring in the air. The ring exploded in a flash of red and green light, leaving an aura that floated back down to the map and disappeared within it..

"Now we wait." the old sage said as she walked from behind the altar to stand next Alistair.

The Warden stood in his spot, transfixed. He gazed at the map hoping that something, anything would be revealed to him. But as the seconds passed nothing happened.

"I knew this wasn't going to work." Alistair mumbled out the side of his mouth.

But soon The Warden thought he saw the map starting to come to life. The faded ink became rich and colorful once more. He felt the ground beneath his feet tremble. A bolt of energy exploded from the map and slammed into The Warden, knocking him to the ground. Then all was silent.

"Dwemer!" Alistair shouted as he rushed to aid The Warden.

"What happened?" The Warden asked as the king helped him to his feet.

"I'm not sure." Alistair answered. "It looked as though something knocked you down. But I didn't see anything."

"What The Warden saw was for him and him alone." explained Wynne. "If that which he seeks truly wants to be found."

Images began flooding The Warden's head. Places he'd seen and been to, and others he had no knowledge of. People he knew and many others he didn't. Then in a sudden flash the fog lifted and the haze cleared from his vision.

"What is it?" Alistair asked, concern in his voice.

"I know where she is."


	2. Chapter II

**Part II**

Morrigan had lived in the wilds her entire life hardly ever venturing into the cities of men. She admittedly lacked the social graces needed for life in civilized society and she much preferred the freedom the wilds offered. There were no self-righteous priests or ignorant Circle mages. She was free to come and go as she pleased. Live life her way. On her terms. Sometimes, however, she would occasionally assume the form of a wolf and spy on unsuspecting humans that had strayed into her domain. She stayed out of sight and watched from the edge of the forest. And as she spied them she would take careful note to herself of these people and how they acted towards each other. A few would pique her interest. But most of the rest she would consider merely imbeciles.

Then she met him and everything changed. Everything she thought she knew was turned upside down. She was drawn to him and he to her. And even though she knew what the final outcome would be, she couldn't help but fall for him. Hard.

She had first met him just before the massacre at Ostagar. It was after that first meeting that Flemeth, her mother, told Morrigan about the plan. A plan to place the captured soul of an old god in a newly conceived child. What her mother intended to do with the child was all too clear. Flemeth would ,of course, take the power of the god-child for herself. Morrigan wasn't sure how her mother would obtain that power or even what she would use it for. Flemeth never discussed such things with her. As it turned out, there were a great many things Flemeth did not tell her daughter.

The plan was very straightforward. It was so simple. But she hadn't counted on his affect on her. She never counted on getting close to her target, much less falling in love with him. But that's exactly what happened. She fell in love and ruined everything.

Now Morrigan found herself in a place where she never thought she could ever possibly be: pregnant and alone. But she was alone by her choice. For him. For both of them. The less he knew, the better. And now that mother was gone it was up to her to come up with a new plan. The child's birth would be several weeks away at best and there was much left to do.

The closer she got to having the child, the more aware of it the other creatures became. At first only the odd timid animal would approach her small shack, having been drawn by the soul of the unborn child. But as time passed and the weeks turned into months the child began to attract different things as well. Other-worldly things. Morrigan found herself having to deal with curious spirits who would often assume the forms of people she knew. Their voiceless faces staring at her. The witch would shoo them off as best she could. But her magic was wanning and they always returned.

She had hoped that the spirits would leave her be. There was much work to be done and she was quickly running out of time. But they just wouldn't cooperate.

"Damn!" Morrigan said as the small embers in the kindling blew out again. She had always been very good at starting fires. She could coax flame from even the dampest wood, given the time. But this fire refused to light. It had been so for two days.

Morrigan was in a wretched state. Her back ached constantly. Her ankles were swollen and painful. She would find herself becoming emotional for no reason at all. She couldn't sleep and eating just made her sick. More and more she found herself unable to perform even the most menial tasks. She felt as though she had a wild beast clawing about in her womb.

Still, Morrigan tried to focus on the task at hand. Getting the fire started. Without the fire it was going to be another long and cold night. So she carefully positioned the kindling and began to try again. The witch lowered her head and closed her eyes, summoning all the magic she had left. Morrigan then began to blow on the small pieces of dried leaves and grass she had placed in a small pile at the base of the fire pit. After a few seconds little wisps of smoke began to form and the tiniest sparks began popping. But no flames would form. And eventually, just as before, the embers died out.

"Damn!" Morrigan shouted as the last puff of smoke was carried away by the wind. "Damn! Damn! Damn!" She accentuated each word by punching the muddy ground on each side of where she knelt.

"Damn this fire! Damn this insufferable creature which grows inside me! Damn you for giving it to me!" Morrigan yelled as loud as she could. "Damn you..."

She slowly stood up, using a large rock next to the pit as a crutch to aid her. She brushed away the hair that dangled in her face, leaving dirt streaks from her ash-covered hands behind. Behind her she heard a loud "Snap!" as a twig broke from being stepped on. Morrigan turned around expecting to see another curious beast who had been drawn out of the forest. But that's not what she saw. What Morrigan saw was the last thing she had ever expected to see. Her mind had a hard time grasping it at first. She made it a point to be prepared for anything at anytime. But she was not prepared for this. She wasn't prepared to see _him_.

* * *

Just because one knows where something is, that doesn't make finding it easy. The Warden had found that statement to be a cruel fact. Thanks to the enchanted map that Alistair, found he now had an internal compass pointing him right to Morrigan. It was like a beacon. And the closer he got to her, the stronger it pulsed. But Morrigan had chosen her path well and she still proved to be elusive.

The first thing that surprised The Warden was the fact that she was to the east. He had suspected that she would go west. He had also heard rumors of a woman of Morrigan's description in the Frostback Mountains. But there was no denying it, she was east of here. Somewhere in the Bracilian Forest.

The forest itself could be dense and overgrown. Hiking through it was no easy task. Getting lost or disoriented was a real threat. Complicating matters further was the fact that the veil between The Fade and the mortal plane was thin there due to the forest's bloody past. Spirits and other creatures from The Fade roamed freely in places. Morrigan had chosen her path well, indeed.

The Warden made the journey to the forest's edge and as the trees became more frequent he started following the animal paths as they wound their way through the thick underbrush. The going was not easy and it tired him. He had to stop more often than he wished to catch his breath. It would be days of hard going but he was more determined than ever to find her. The further he traveled inside the forest, the more he could feel her presence. It was getting stronger. He knew she was there. Somewhere.

Memories of the last time he was in the forest began to wash over him. And these memories were particularly strong. Images of Morrigan's angry scowl flashed through his mind. She was often angry with him. She was jealous of the time he was spending with Leliana and she let him hear about it. The Warden smiled to himself as he walked. He liked the fact that Morrigan had a jealous side, It was one of the only ways she ever openly displayed affection for him. It was her way of showing that she cared. He openly declared that his interest was only in her, but that did little to help. She would end up asking him to choose between Leliana and herself. It was an easy choice since he and Leliana were merely friends. That seemed to satisfy the witch at the time, though she still cast angry looks in the bard's direction on occasion.

It took The Warden more than a week of tracking through the wilderness before he began to feel like he was starting to get close. As he made his way through the dark and dense growth he would encounter spirits. At first he saw only a few. But the more he traveled and the closer he got to her he would see more and more apparitions. These spirits seemed to be drawn to something. As if something was calling to them. If they knew he was there the made no sign of it. The Warden passed by them unnoticed.

Ahead of him lay a small clearing. The trees seemed to thin out and it would provide a place where he could rest and get his bearings. He was very close now. He could feel it. He even swore he could hear woman's voice. He stopped at the edge of the clearing, just inside the tree line to investigate.

What he saw was a woman leaning over a fire pit that had no flame. She had long black hair that was pulled back in a pony tail. The pony tail had gotten loose over time and stray strands of hair hung down the sides of her head. She looked as though she was having difficulty moving around as she knelt beside the pit.

He could tell she was having trouble getting the fire lit. She was becoming frustrated. The woman began reaching around the base of the fire to gather more kindling for another attempt. As she turned to pick up a few dried leaves off of the forest floor, that's when he saw her face. It was a face he recognized. It was a face he had been longing to see. It was her.

His heart began racing. Suddenly he was frozen. The Warden had faced down the archdemon itself, and he had slain it. No foe had ever bested him in battle. No quest was too great for him. But this was a new sensation that he was unfamiliar with. His feet were too heavy to move, as if they were made of stone. He was afraid.

There she was just a few yards from him. And as he watched her from behind the trees he contemplated turning around and giving up. Maybe seeing her was enough. Maybe he should leave her be. She looked tired and miserable. Dirt covered her face and her clothes were a mess. Her belly was swollen with child. His child. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

Morrigan's frustration over the fire erupted as she began to yell in anger. The Warden watched but could not get the nerve to take that one step out of the darkness. One step was all it would take. Just one small step and he would be out in the open where he could see her, and she him. He slowly put his foot forward trying desperately to find the will, but it would not come. He pulled his foot back and slid a little deeper into the shadows.

"Snap!" a twig cracked beneath his foot. She had heard the noise. Morrigan turned to face the sound and that's when she saw him.

She gasped, putting her hand over her mouth. Slowly her expression changed from one of shock and confusion to one of anger, "Begone spirit!" she yelled at him, "I've no time for your tricks today."

The Warden stood silent. All he could do was stare at her. He wanted to tell her it was him. He wanted to say that he had come for her. But the words refused to form. All he could muster was a single word. The most important word he knew, "Morrigan."

"I said _begone_!" The witch yelled as she drew deep within herself to tap the absolute last of her magic. She flung her hands forward violently and blue arcs of lightning flew forth. The air hissed and sizzled as the bolts streaked toward their target, striking The Warden and flinging him violently to the ground.

Morrigan had had to resort to such tactics before to dispel unwanted specters. And each time the result was the same. Her magical lightning would strike the spirit causing it to dissipate momentarily, after which it would normally float off. But never had she witnessed a spirit fall to the ground. Spirits don't fall down, she thought to herself, not unless...unless...

"Oh no!" Morrigan gasped in sudden realization.

The last thing The Warden saw before everything went dark was the sight of his beloved witch coming to him, yelling "You stupid bastard! What have you done?"

* * *

The fog started to lift from his head and things slowly began to come into focus. He was lying down on the floor of a small shack. There was a hearth to his left that was lit, casting a soft glow over the interior. A bandage had been wrapped around his head, which was throbbing. He reached for the bandage and felt a large lump beneath it. A hand seemed to come from nowhere and smacked his own, knocking it away from his injury.

"Do not touch that!" a voice snapped from somewhere, "You will only make things worse than you already have."

The Warden found a way to climb to his feet and stand. He still felt weak and groggy, but his faculties were slowly returning to him. "I see you got the fire lit."

"You just could not leave well enough alone could you?" Morrigan asked in her typical fashion.

"I had to find you. I swore that I would find you."

"Had it not ocured to you that I did not want you to find me? Did I not tell you that very thing? Did it ever enter that thick skull of yours that when I said we would never see each other again that I was serious?"

"That's not true. I wouldn't have found you unless you really wanted me to."

"What are you talking about?" Morrigan asked as she cocked her head to the side, utterly confused.

"I wouldn't have found you unless you really wanted me to. That's how the spell worked. Alistair found a map..:"

"Alistair. I should have known...Do continue. This has got to be good if Alistair is involved." the witch said with a smirk.

"What was I supposed to do, Morrigan? Just sit there? You didn't give me any kind of explanation. I thought you wanted to be with me."

"How we felt about one another was irrelevant to the situation at hand. Twas my duty to produce a child and save your life in the process."

"So you were just doing your duty. Is that it? Ensnare a man's heart, then leave?"

Rage began to fill the witch's eyes. "You filthy bastard!" she fumed as she slapped The Warden across his cheek as hard as she could. "You have no idea! Absolutely no idea at all! I have been alone in these wilds carrying _your_ child! A child that can never be raised around others. Least of all you."

"The child has no taint. Why would you choose to keep me from it?" The Warden asked.

"I shall explain it to you very carefully," the witch began, still visibly angry, "You are a Grey Warden. Do you not think the people who so admire The Hero of Denerim would not turn into a vicious pack of rabid wolves if they knew you had a child conceived through blood magic? If they found out that this child also carried the essence of an old god within it, what then? What if they found out about your precious maleficarum? How do you think they would react? Add the fact that this child will most certainly possess magical talent. Do you honestly believe I would allow the Circle of Magi to take my child?"

"I don't care about that." The Warden replied.

"No, you don't." Morrigan snapped, "which is why I have to care for both of us."

"So you're telling me you want me to leave?"

"I'm asking you to do what's best for both me and our child." Morrigan said calmly, "Can you not see that?"

"No. I can't. I can't see how you hiding away from the world helps anything. You're going to try to have this baby all by yourself off in the middle of the forest. What if something happened to you? Or to the child? "

"Do you really think me ignorant?" the witch hissed," I have planned carefully for every possible situation."

"You were prepared for me to find you?" The witch said nothing. Her only response being an angry glare. "I don't care what you are," The Warden continued, " There's no reason for you to be alone. Whatever it is you think, you're wrong. You don't have to do this yourself."

"Insufferable man!" Morrigan quipped, "As I have already stated at length, I do not need nor do I desire your help. What we had is long since over and it seems illogical to me to drag this pointless conversation on any longer."

"So you're telling me you want me to leave?"

"Yes. Leave. Go. Get out. Do not come back. Ever. How many ways do you wish me to say it to you?"

The Warden looked deep into her eyes looking for a sign, any sign, that she would waiver. But there was none. Her expression was as solid as stone. He knew that Morrigan had made up her mind. "As you wish." was all the Warden said. He grabbed his pack from the table on which it lay, turned towards the small wooden door, opened it, and began to walk out into the night.

"Wait..." a faint voice said. The Warden turned to face it. "Don't..." Morrigan's expression had melted to that of a woman who was frightened and tired of being alone. "Don't go."

Then something happened. It might have been the months of solitude, or being with child. But she didn't care anymore. Morrigan, the Witch of the Wilds whose heart was made of ice and stone; who never showed weakness; slowly fell to her knees and broke down.

_Damn you_...


	3. Chapter III

**Part III**

"By the Maker!", Alistair said as he slumped into the large chair in his royal bedchamber. He had had a long and exhausting day. It seemed as if there were more and more of these types of days anymore. Since The Warden had left on his quest to find his precious Morrigan, Alistair had been left alone to hold back the flood gates. That was some six months ago. Six months and Alistair had heard nothing from The Warden. What had, at one time, been concern for his friend had long since turned into outright frustration.

Now it was up to "good ol' Alistair" to keep things running smoothly. And he was failing miserably. The rebuilding effort had started with quite a bit of promise, but that soon faded as the days trudged on and the weeks turned into months.

People were still homeless and living in refugee camps dotted all across Ferelden. Towns and villages were still a long way from recovering from the blight. There was little food or water, and plague was spreading rapidly. And perhaps most disturbing of all, was the fact that rumors were going around that The Warden had vanished, or worse still; was dead.

Alistair had heard the rumors. And while only he and a handful of others knew the truth of The Warden's absence, the stories still troubled him. "At least we took care of the bandits." Alistair thought to himself as he tried to relax.

The king's mind stepped back to the day of the final assault on the largest bandit stronghold in southeast Ferelden. He had organized the battle and lead the charge personally. He remembered it well. That was ,after all, how he acquired the enchanted map.

When Avex, the bandit overlord, realized his cause was lost he bartered the map to keep his neck from the noose. Alistair had no clue what it was at the time. Avex assured the king that the map lead to the greatest riches any man or king had ever beheld. That with this map, there would be enough gold in the royal coffers to rebuild Ferelden 10 fold.

Of course Alistair's interest was piqued. Ferelden desperately needed a means to fund the rebuilding effort. But the king remained skeptical. He decided to hold Avex in prison until he could confirm the authenticity of the map. He sent the map off to the Circle Tower for Wynne to examine.

Not long afterward, the king received news that Avex had escaped. Three of his best guards were slaughtered in the process and the bandit had yet to be found.

Long weeks passed before Alistair received a letter from Wynne. But the news was good. The map, as it turned out, was real. It would find almost any treasure a person wanted so long as the item in question had sought to be found.

So what did "good ol' Alistair" do? Like a dunce he gave the map to his friend, The Grey Warden. He thought there was absolutely no way that Morrigan would ever want The Warden to find her. The spell would most likely fail and the map would reveal nothing. The Warden, having exhausted every possible means of finding his fair witch, comes to his senses and moves on.

It was really a better plan in theory than execution. Because, to the king's amazement, the spell actually worked. The damned thing actually worked. Now The Warden had a sort of beacon...thing...that was pointing him right to Morrigan. So off goes The Warden , hot on her trail. And now he's been gone _six months_.

Right now, though, the king couldn't be bothered with any of that. Right now he needed to rest because tomorrow he would be meeting with Arl Eamon. It seemed that Eamon was growing concerned over the people's unrest Alistair hoped that he Arl had some ideas, because he didn't have a clue.

By the time dawn broke a large crowd had already started gathering outside the palace gates. This had been the case every morning for several weeks now. And each time the crowd was larger than the morning before. The crowd was filled with angry Fereldens who wanted to know why things were so bad and what the king was going to do about it. But most of all they wanted to know the answer to one question: Where was The Grey Warden?

Alistair had never faced these crowds. He was unsure of what to tell them, so he just avoided them altogether. And these weren't the only mobs gathering. All over Ferelden people were gathering in large groups. The remaining refugee camps were especially bad. There was even a riot at the camp outside the ruins of Lothering.

And no matter what the king did, he was unable to pacify them. He spent more and more time in the palace, isolating himself from his subjects. Such was the case that morning, as Alistair was in his study, staring out one of the windows, when Eamon arrived.

"Good Morning, Your Majesty", Eamon said as he entered the room. "I trust you are well?"

Alistair continued staring out the window, not making any acknowledgement of the arl.

"Your majesty?" Eamon said, louder this time. Still the king did not notice. "Alistair!" the arl said loudly.

The king was startled for a second, then quickly looked over in Eamon's direction, "Arl Eamon, I didn't hear you come in."

"Alistair, we need to talk." Eamon said. "Tell me what's going on."

"Nothing is going on. I have everything under control."

"Is that so?" The arl quipped, "then what of the angry mob that stands outside your very door?"

"Oh, that." Alistair responded, weakly. "I've been meaning to do something about that."

"Alistair, please! Can't you be serious for a minute?"

"I told you. I told all of you that this was a bad idea. That I would make a horrible king. But did you listen? No. I don't have any experience with this. I have no idea what I'm doing."

The arl looked Alistair straight in the face. "One day you will make a great king. I am still certain of it. And how you deal with the current situation is very important to your growth as a leader." The arl's gazed shifted to the window and the mob outside, "But the people have lost their hero. And when people lose their heroes they lose their hope. Until you fix that, nothing you do will help"

"What am I supposed to do? The Warden has been gone six months. I don't know when or even if he's coming back."

"You have to talk to them, Alistair. The people need to see their king. They need for their king to tell them that everything is alright, even when it isn't," Eamon explained.

Alistair sighed deeply. "Alright. I'll speak to them. But I've got a bad feeling about this."

And so it was that an announcement was made: In the coming days the king would address the people and quell their fears and concerns. Word of the announcement spread quickly and the crowd that gathered outside the palace the day of the royal address was enormous.

Inside the palace, however, the king was having second thoughts. "They're going to rip me to shreds." Alistair thought to himself as he looked out the glass windows of the large door in front of him. He adjusted his attire and nodded to the doorman who opened the door for the king. A herald, who was already standing on the large balcony outside, shouted out "His Royal Majesty, King Alistair Theirin!"

Immediately a loud chorus of boos erupted from the crowd. Alistair slowly walked out onto the balcony, trying very hard not to listen. But it didn't help. He could still hear them. The king looked down and saw the faces of his subjects. And those faces were of people who were tired, hungry, and without hope. No wonder they were so angry. It took some time for the crowd to quiet enough for Alistair to speak.

"Good people of Ferelden. I know why you have come here today. You wish to know if your king is taking his people's concerns seriously. You're wondering if I have the situation well in hand. I can assure you that everything is under control. I can also assure you that your needs are being addressed. With a bit of work I'm sure we will all make it through these trying times. Now, it has been sugges..."

"Where's The Warden?!" someone yelled out before the king could finish, "What happened to the Hero of Denerim?!" the crowd started to grow agitated.

From somewhere else a woman shouted "The Grey Warden has abandoned us!"

"He's dead and they're keeping it from us!" said a man.

It happened so fast that Alistair could barely believe it. The crowd had turned into one giant mass of shouting and screaming voices. All of them aimed at him. A rock whizzed by the king's head, breaking the glass window in the door behind him. Guards quickly surrounded the king and ushered him back inside.

"Well I don't see how that could have gone any worse," the king said.

Several days passed since the incident and Alistair sat in the throne room alone. He had just spent the better part of the morning giving audience to angry farmers, scared merchants, suspicious nobles, and a host of other people whose wants and needs seemed to blend together after a time. All he wanted to do now was go up to his private chambers and ignore the world for the rest of the day.

As the king made his way up the staircase he swore he could hear somebody shouting. The sound was getting closer to him. He turned back and slowly headed toward the shouts, trying to make them out. At first Alistair thought his ears were playing tricks on him. But soon there was no denying what he heard.

"The Warden is back! The Grey Warden has returned!"

* * *

She was more beautiful than he remembered, The Warden thought to himself as he looked on her sleeping form next to him. They had not been intimate. He was too concerned over the child and thought it best not to risk anything. Instead they just lied down in her small bed and talked. Mostly she talked. But that was almost always the case. She informed him of what a complete ass he was and how no good will come of this. And that she still had severe reservations about the whole thing so he'd better not push his luck. And just as always, he was glad to hear her voice.

Without noticing, she had gotten closer to him. The more they talked, the closer to him she got, until, without realizing it, she was in his arms. And that's where she fell asleep. And as she slept, The Warden watched her.

She was wearing her hair differently, The Warden noted, and her face had become slightly more round from the pregnancy. She made almost no sound and seemed to be more at peace than any time since he met her. He wondered if she was dreaming. And if she was, what was she dreaming about?

He had risked everything to find her. He had set aside all he believed in. But there was no going back now. He was determined to see this path to its end. Whatever that may be. For better or worse he had found her. They would face whatever fate had in store, together.

Some months passed and the child arrived. It was a boy, whom Morrigan named Seth. He was a healthy and robust baby. To the eyes and ears he was a perfectly normal and happy infant. The Warden would often forget that his child carried the soul of a god.

The Warden and his witch were happy for a time. He had even grown accustomed to hearing her laugh. But always in the back of his mind was the duty he had forsaken. It made him feel unclean. He would try to bury the rogue thoughts down as deep as he could. But they would always remain, haunting him. He wanted to make it right. To attend to his responsibilities. But he was afraid. Afraid that she would disappear again. And this time he might not ever find her. Especially since now she knew about his internal compass; which she was none to happy about. And he was certain she could devise a defense against it.

As the days and nights passed, his dreams began to become troubled. Images from his past would constantly remind him of his selfishness at abandoning his duties. Morrigan would show concern from time to time, but The Warden would just shrug it off and say he was fine. She never pressed the issue.

One night, however, the peace came to an abrupt end. And both of their lives would be changed forever.

The Warden was sitting outside the hut, next to the fire. His back leaning against the a large rock that sat next to the fire pit. He had been contemplating there for some time and was lost in deep thought. It was a quiet night. The sky was clear and he could make the stars out clearly.

"Are you ever coming inside or would you prefer to catch your death?" Morrigan said as she walked up behind him.

"I'll be be there soon."

"Might I inquire as to what you are doing?"

"Just thinking."

"It seems to me that you are always 'just thinking'. Do you ever plan on telling me what all this thinking is about?"

"It's nothing. Honestly."

"You are a terrible liar. But I shall not force the issue." She said as she sat down between his legs in the dirt, resting her back against his chest.

He put his arms around her and pulled her closer to him, kissing the back of her neck.

"Is the baby asleep?" He asked as he continued to plant soft kisses against her.

"For now", Morrigan replied, "but you know what will happen should you continue." It was true. The child seemed to have a magical sense to know the exact time his parents made any attempt at intimacy, and reacted accordingly. Usually in a very loud manner.

But no sounds came from the child sleeping inside the hut. Thinking the coast was clear, The Warden proceeded. As he kissed the back of her neck and shoulders he would drink in her aroma. She smelled sweetly of flowers and of the forest. He was intoxicated by it.

"Mmmm," Morrigan purred, "You had best not start something that you won't be able finish."

"Don't worry." was all he said as his hands moved down her arms, grabbing her hands. She began to squirm from the attention. Giggling a bit.

"What was that?" Morrigan said suddenly, as she sat up, "Did you hear something?"

"It's nothing. Just an animal." He said trying to reassure her and more importantly not lose his rare chance.

"Shhh!" the witch commanded as she slapped his hands away, "Tis there again!"

And this time The Warden heard it too. It was an odd sound. Almost like a faint humming. Like someone humming a tune. A woman. But he couldn't tell where the sound was coming from. He stood up and walked closer to the forest's edge to listen more closely.

That's when he heard a voice. He knew this voice. It had an heir of age to it. Great age that was far more than any human could know.

"It's been a long time, Warden," the voice said.

"I know that voice! Show yourself!" The Warden exclaimed.

"Ahhh...good. Your hearing is intact." the voice replied, "but do you remember my name?"

"Flemeth!"

"In truth, I did not expect to find you here, Warden. That's twice I've underestimated you. I won't do it a third time I can assure you."

"Mother." Morrigan stated flatly. She was not nearly as startled to see her mother as The Warden was, almost as if she'd been expecting her to some degree, "What is it that you want?".

"Why do you assume I want anything at all? Dear child, can't a mother be happy for her daughter?" Flemeth said as she moved out from her hiding spot in the shadows and into full view. "After all, you have finally found _true love_." the old hag began cackling hysterically.

"I have no time for your games, witch!" The Warden shouted.

"Games? There are no games." Flemeth said, "I am merely here for what is mine."

"You will not have Morrigan!"

"Morrigan? Who said anything about Morrigan?" Flemeth cackled, "She's yours, do with her as you will."

"You will state what you want, then leave and never return."

"Oh, but it's not that simple my dear boy." Flemeth began to grin as she spoke, "What I want is something very special."

Flemeth turned her attention from The Warden, "Don't you remember our little arrangement, my daughter?"

"Seth!" exclaimed Morrigan.

"Arrangement? What arrangement?" The Warden asked, looking his witch in the eyes.

"So she hasn't told you? Well, then, Morrigan I guess you have some explaining to do."

"Morrigan...?" The Warden's head was dizzy with confusion.

"I shall return. And when I do I expect payment in full."

"I will see you dead first! Monster!" The Warden shouted as he lunged for Flemeth. The old hag waived her hand and a ball of magical energy burst forth and flew into The Warden, who was flung several yards and landed against a tree with a loud "Thud!"

The Warden struggled to stand, gasping for air. "I killed you once. I can kill you again." he gasped between breaths.

"Killed me?" Flemeth said, half-laughing, "You simple fool. You saw merely what I wanted you to see." Flemeth paused and looked straight at Morrigan. "_Our_ business is not finished." With that old hag transformed herself into a large black hawk, leaped into the air, and flew away.

"What arrangement was she talking about?" The witch simply looked away and stared into the fire. "Morrigan, talk to me!"

Morrigan looked up at the sky, paused and took a deep breath, then began to speak, "everything you thought you knew about me was a lie." she started to explain, "I had known my mother's methods and intentions concerning me for some time, though I kept this secret even from her. And when the blight came I saw my opportunity. So I struck an accord with my mother"

"Flemeth gets the baby and you get your freedom. Is that it?" The Warden asked, the dark realization setting on him.

"Yes."

"Everything was a lie. Especially your reasons for not wanting to see me again. You were afraid I'd find out and that I would do something to prevent it. So you lied about everything."

"Not everything. I have never lied about my feelings towards you. Twas a foolish thing I did and I deeply regret all of it."

"Do you?"

"Yes! With every fiber of my being. I had not intended on letting my mother have the child. My intent was to face her alone. To spare you."

"To spare me from what? Flemeth, or knowing what you did?"

"Both..."

The Warden just stared at her, not saying a word.

"Please...say something. Anything. Tell me what you are feeling."

"I don't know what I feel, right now." The Warden said. And he walked off.

Morrigan waited for him a while, then retired inside. She fought as hard as she could against the tears, but some still managed to escape.

The next day began with Morrigan waking up to a crying child. She wiped the sleep from her eyes and stumbled over to the crib where the baby lay and gently picked him up. Within seconds the child silenced.

Morrigan noticed that The Warden had not come to bed the previous night. She was alone in the shack with the baby. A sudden chill ran down her spine and she quickly stepped towards the door and swung it open. Much to her relief, she found The Warden in his spot against the rock, staring blankly at the pile of ashes.

He noticed her and turned to face her. "You knew she would be back and what she would be after. Why didn't you ever tell me the truth?" he asked as he rested his head against the rock.

"I wanted to. A thousand times I tried. But the nerve would always escape me. And as time passed, I began to hope that she might never return."

"But she did return. And now she wants Seth."

"Yes."

"I can't let that happen. Ever." The Warden stated.

"What is it you plan to do?" Morrigan asked.

"Pack the baby's things. I'm going to take him back to Denerim with me."

"Have you gone absolutely mad? There is no way I am letting..."

"Morrigan, this once I will speak and you will listen," He said, getting her full attention. "I can't protect either him or you out here. We are going to take Seth back to Denerim where he'll be protected. Alistair can help me provide that while I find a way to deal with Flemeth once and for all."

"You still wish to be with me, then?"

"I don't know yet. But I do know that I don't want to see you get hurt, either."

"Then I shall make ready to leave."

"We will have to hurry. It will take a least a week or more before we even reach the first human villages." The Warden stated.

"Perhaps I have a faster way." The witch said as she beckoned The Warden inside the hut. Morrigan went over to a small chest and undid the latch. She opened the chest and from it removed a scroll, a small vial of ink, and a leather pouch which seemed to contain lyrium.

"What is that?" The Warden asked.

"Tis a scroll of gate. It has the power to transport us to any number of places instantly. It requires the use of an anchor, but those I set long ago before I ever left Ferelden."

"An anchor?"

"Tis a rune that is inscribed and left at potential destinations. I have spread a great deal of them throughout. Including one at the palace in Denerim."

"How soon before you can have the spell ready?"

"Not long. Gather the child's necessities and I shall be ready."

Before long, The Warden had collected and packed all the items he deemed necessary for the baby. After he had stuffed the last of the items into his pack he grabbed the child from it's crib and headed outside to where Morrigan was.

She had drawn a large circle on the ground with a rune symbol in the middle and she was standing in the center of the circle. In her hand she held the scroll, which now had the same rune drawn on it as was on the ground.

"Bring the child and join me in the circle." She said to The Warden.

He complied and entered the circle, standing face-to-face with the witch. Morrigan placed the scroll on the ground and then her hands on both the child and The Warden.

She began to utter an incantation. Repeating it over and over. Smoke and flames began to form around the them. The crackle of arcane energy rippled through the air. Then there was a blinding flash and in a blink, they were gone.


	4. Chapter 4

**Part IV**

"Thank the Maker you're back!" Alistair exclaimed upon seeing The Warden. The king had never been more relieved in his entire life "You have no idea how happy I am to see you! Where have you been?".

Morrigan's anchor was hidden away in a corner of the great hall in the palace. Her gate spell had worked perfectly and she, The Warden, and their child where whisked away to the royal castle in the blink of an eye. Their sudden arrival had a rather unsettling affect on the servants and guards that were in that hall at the time; two women fainted and a guard urinated on himself. But other than that, it went without incident.

"I need to talk to you right now, Alistair." The Warden said in a very serious tone. "Somethings happened and I need your help."

"What do you need?" the king asked, so taken by The Warden's sudden return that he failed to notice Morrigan and the child.

"Greetings to you as well, Alistair." Morrigan said flatly.

"Morrigan?! I don't believe it! He found you! I mean I knew he would, well, not actually. But at this point I guess I shouldn't put anything past..."

"Alistair..." The Warden interrupted, "You're babbling."

"Oh, right. Sorry about that. I just can't believe it's really you. And you found Morrigan. You have no idea what I've been going through since you left."

"I haven't been gone that long," The Warden stated.

"Six months! You've been gone more than six months! I began to think you were never coming back."

"Why? What happened?"

"Ferelden has seen better times." And as the group walked through the halls of the palace on the way to the royal study, Alistair explained what had been happening during The Warden's absence. Ferelden had sorely missed The Grey Warden.

"I would really appreciate it if you could make yourself visible to the public. Let them know you're back." Alistair said.

"The way word spreads around here, I think they already know."

"That might be so, but I'd rather not have to contend with rumor mongering. If the people could see you, that would go a long way towards quieting them down a bit." the king said as they arrived at the study and proceeded to enter. "Now, what is it that you wanted to talk to me about?"

When The Warden was sure that they were alone he began to speak, "I need your help with something very important, Alistair."

"What? I'll do anything I can to help."

"We saw Flemeth."

"Are you sure? I thought you killed her."

"It was her."

"More good news. I can't say that I'm surprised, though. You can never seem to kill a witch dead enough. I take it she's after Morrigan?"

"No. She's after my son."

"Your son?" the king said, shocked. "Is that...?" he asked as he pointed to the small bundle in Morrigan's arms. The Warden nodded.

"Can I...?" Alistair asked sheepishly. Again, The Warden nodded.

Alistair slowly walked over to Morrigan, gently reached out his hand and pulled back the small, thick blanket covering the child so he could get a better look. "He's got his mother's eyes and hair. And your chin," Alistair said, looking up at The Warden.

"Would you like to hold him?" The Warden asked and immediately felt the barbs from the glare that Morrigan cast at him. A glare that said _if there is any part of your being that desires to continue drawing breath then you shall cease such dangerously foolish notions this instant._

"Maker, no." Alistair said, "I'd be too afraid."

"A pity." replied Morrigan.

The Warden told the king of Flemeth's return and how she had intended to take the power of the child for herself, though neither he nor Morrigan knew how she intended to accomplish that feat. He mentioned nothing of Morrigan's deal with her mother. And the witch remained silent as the two men spoke.

While the look on her face said nothing, her insides were twisted in knots. Morrigan wanted to leave that place. Every part of her body screamed to be taken back to the wilds. She knew it was a mistake to be there. A mistake that they might not live to regret. "There is something amiss about this room," she thought. She had the feeling that someone was watching them. Watching her.

Alistair called to one of the palace servants and informed him that The Warden, Morrigan, and the child would be staying as guests of the king.

"Very good, Your Majesty," the servant said, "How many rooms will you be requiring?"

"One." The Warden replied. Morrigan had greatly hoped he would only request one. But she showed nothing on the outside.

"The child and mother will be staying in the room. Please have someone attend to their needs."

"And what of you?" Morrigan asked The Warden.

"I'm leaving for Circle Tower tomorrow morning. I need to go see Wynne."

"You have gone completely mad if you believe that I shall a remain here for a single instant whilst you go ..."

"Listen to me, Morrigan. Right now I need you to cooperate. Please. We need to keep Seth safe. And he'll be safest here. With his mother."

"I fail to see what can possibly be gained..."

"Please." The Warden repeated.

Morrigan sighed deeply, "Very well. As you insist."

"Wait. You're leaving her _here_ with _me_?" Alistair exclaimed in disbelief, "That is a very bad idea."

"That won't be a problem will it?" The Warden asked.

"Oh, no, it'll be great. We can catch up on old times. Just as long as I don't try to get any sleep." Alistair replied, sarcastically.

"Do I even want to know what that implies?" inquired Morrigan, placing her free hand on her hip.

"It's nothing." The Warden answered

"Knowing you two, I would hardly wager on that."

As evening came, The Warden made sure that Morrigan and the child had been settled and their needs were met before making his own preparations to leave for Circle Tower. The tower had the most extensive library in all Ferelden. There must be some knowledge in those books and ancient tomes that would give him the answers he sought. He was sure that was where his quest must start.

"I'll be gone for two weeks. No more than that." he told Morrigan as she was attending to the child in their quarters.

"And what exactly is it I am supposed to do in your absence?" She asked in return. "Do you expect me to simply wait here and do nothing at all?"

"We've already discussed this. You and the baby will be well taken care of here."

"Suppose I do not wish to be 'taken care of'."

"Morrigan..."

"And how am I to know whether or not you have accomplished anything? Perhaps your search will take you far longer than you realize." Morrigan stated, in her usual cutting tone.

"For whatever reason, Flemeth hasn't already tried to take the baby, yet. I don't know why she hasn't tried or what she's waiting for so I don't have a lot of time to waste. Your mother revealed herself and her intentions for a reason. She would have known we would try to stop her. I have to figure out what she's up to. Wynne can help me figure that out. I promise, I'll be back in two weeks. No longer."

"Suddenly I am an invalid? Fit for naught but the most menial tasks? Is that what you think?"

"Morrigan, look at me." The Warden said as grabbed her gently by the shoulders and turned her body towards his, "I will be back for you. For both of you. I swear it."

"The last time you swore such an oath it took the better part of a year for you to make good on it."

There was a long, awkward silence in the room. Neither The Warden or Morrigan said anything for several minutes. He stared into the fireplace, watching the flames dance about as they consumed the wood. She sat in a large chair next to the bed and coddled the baby. Finally, when neither of them could stand it anymore, The Warden spoke. "We need to talk about this."

"I would agree."

"I've thought about it ever since last night, I haven't been able to think about anything else."

"Nor have I. Your tone with me as of late has been most disturbing. Do you believe you have no room left in your heart for me?"

"I don't know what I believe anymore. I don't even know for sure if any of it was real." The Warden said as his mind tried to grasp the situation. It kept failing.

"How I feel about you is real. It has always been so."

"What about your mother's journal? If that was the book that showed you that your mother was going to try to steal your body, and you said she never talked about her other daughters before, how did you know?"

"When a being's age becomes as great as Flemeth's, one tome is hardly sufficient to hold such vast arcane knowledge. There are many such books throughout all of Thedas. By chance I happened upon one of my mother's previous grimoires. It contained much the same information as the one found by you. Perhaps, there might be such a book with _my_ name in it." Morrigan explained.

"So you used me."

"Yes. I used you. Though I much regret ever having done so. I was not the same person as I am now. Twas you that changed me."

"But if you knew she would return, why ask me to kill your mother?" The Warden questioned.

"I had hoped it would delay her long enough for me to make sufficient preparations."

"So, that's why you had the scroll of gate and the other items."

Morrigan nodded affirmative as she stood from the chair and lay the sleeping child in it's bed.

"But you didn't decide to keep the baby until after the ritual, did you? Otherwise you would have never gone through with it in the first place."

"Tis not so. I anguished over my decision for weeks. I only decided to proceed with the ritual when we were in Orzamar; after you had given me the jeweled mirror. At that moment everything became clear and I knew exactly what I was feeling for you." Morrigan said, "The ritual we performed was for your benefit. I had no desire to see you dead. I told you as much."

"You lied to me and used me. How am I supposed to get passed that?"

"Yes, I did. And as I have already stated, my feelings for you were quite genuine. They still are. I will not, however, be led 'round in circles like some lost child. If your desire is to be with me, then say so. If not, then so be it. You are already aware of my wishes."

"Of course I _want_ to be with you. But I feel like I don't even know you at all." The Warden replied.

"You are confusing me with who I was before we met. I am speaking truthfully when I tell you that on the night our son was conceived I had already swore no harm would come to the child."

"I want to believe you, Morrigan. I really do." The Warden said as he looked into her eyes. Her golden eyes always had a glow that mesmerized him.

"Then believe me. I am extremely saddened that I have disappointed you and lost your trust. It hurts me more than you can know. But I cannot continue to have this hanging over me. Please, tell me what it is you wish me to do and I shall do it."

"I don't want this hanging over either of us." The Warden sighed, then continued, "We'll be alright. It's just going to take some time, that's all."

"Tis decided then?"

"Yes."

"We are still 'entangled'?" Morrigan asked with a sly grin.

"Still entangled." The Warden replied.

She wrapped her arms around him and held him as close as she could; something she had never done before. The Warden responded in kind.

"We'll be ready for whatever your mother has planned. I promise."

"I'm inclined to think that my mother hasn't all the pieces she needs. Tis why she has made no effort to take our child."

"That might be so, but why not wait until all the pieces are in place before revealing herself. That's the part that doesn't make any sense here."

"Tis most perplexing, indeed."

The next morning saw The Warden making his way to see someone very important He had been away a long time. And now that he was back, he needed to pay a visit to an old friend. Morrigan and child accompanied him as he quickly made his way through the castle.

"I do not comprehend your urgency. Who would be so important that this reunion could not wait until after the Sun had wholly risen?" Morrigan's question answered itself once she saw where their destination was: The kennels. "Oh, no." she said as the revelation hit her.

But before she could turn and flee it was too late. There was no mistaking the deep, growling barks that were headed straight for her. In an instant Morrigan was mauled by slobber, fur, and stench.

"You will get your vile beast away from me_ now_!" Morrigan commanded loudly, "I will not have him anywhere near my child!"

"He's not going to hurt anything. He's just wants to meet the newest member of the family." The Warden said as his boyhood friend, Leo, danced and barked around them excitedly.

"That loathsome creature isn't any relation to me nor my child!" In truth, Leo was a 200 pound Mabari war dog who was capable of tearing a man to pieces in mere seconds.

"Why do you have to be that way? You'll hurt his feelings." The Warden said, jokingly.

"Dwemer!" Morrigan shouted. She rarely ever called him by name unless she was really upset with him. And this time was no exception.

"Alright, alright. Settle down, boy" He said and instantly the dog sat and became motionless save for the panting of his large tongue. "Don't mind her," The Warden said as he vigorously scratched behind the dog's ears.

"I take it this annoying beast shall accompany you?" Morrigan asked as she used her free hand to wipe the dog hair from her clothes..

"I figured he could use the exercise."

"As long as he stays far from me, I care not what you do with him." Morrigan said as she shifted the infant in her arms. "Seth requires his breakfast and is in need of changing. I shall handle the former, _you_ the latter."

"Are you punishing me?"

"Apparently not even the great Grey Warden gets out of changing dirty diapers," Alistair said as he approached. "Morrigan..." he said, acknowledging the witch.

"Alistair..." returned Morrigan, "I shall be in our chambers awaiting you. I expect you not to be long." Morrigan finished as she walked off, back towards the castle.

"Morrigan, a mother," Alistair said

"And a damned good one, too." The Warden added.

"Who would have ever thought?" Alistair commented as he shook his head, "I was never able to understand what you saw in her. I mean sure, there's her amazing good looks, sultry voice, perfect body, and incredible mystique. But other than that, what have you got?"

"Look after her while I'm gone. Make sure they both stay safe. Promise me. Promise me you'll look after them." The Warden pleaded with his friend.

"I was afraid you were going to say that." the king remarked.

"Promise me, Alistair."

"Alright, I promise."

"Thank you. I really do appreciate all the help you've been giving us. Hopefully I'll be able to get some of this sorted out when I get to Circle Tower." The Warden said, "But you didn't come all the way down here to talk about Morrigan."

"No, I didn't. I came to warn you about a large crowd that's gathered outside the palace gates. They're expecting you to make an appearance."

"I told you word spreads fast in Denerim."

"That was too fast, though. You haven't even been back a whole day yet."

"I'll make sure they can see me leaving."

"Leaving? Are you trying to incite a riot? Don't let them think you're leaving. Tell them...tell them ...", Alistair paused to think, " Tell them you're on official royal business. Super-secret so you can't say a word about it. Make sure to tell them you'll see them again soon. Don't forget that part. It's very important."

"Super-secret royal business, eh?" The Warden said, grinning.

"What? You don't think they'll believe it?"

"Whatever you say, Your Majesty."

Alistair just groaned.

The Warden gathered the items that he needed and prepared to leave for Circle Tower. Morrigan had little to say while she watched him pack. He placed his backpack over his shoulders, walked over to Morrigan, and gave her a long and passionate kiss. The child, for once, did not object.

"Two weeks. I have your word." Morrigan said as she looked into his eyes.

"Two weeks." He acknowledged.

"I long for your quick return, my love," the witch confessed as she placed another soft kiss on his cheek and embraced him.

The Warden bent down and kissed his son softly on the forehead. "I'll be back soon. Take care of your mother for me while I'm gone," he whispered into the infant's ear.

With that, The Warden turned and headed out the door. Morrigan watched him from the window as he left the palace. He stopped just short of the gate and whistled. Before long Leo came running with his normal exuberance, barking loudly. The massive throng that had gathered cheered in jubilation at the sight of their precious Grey Warden. He waved to the faces in the crowd as the royal guards flanked him on either side and attempted to part the sea of people to allow him to pass. The Mabari proved to be far better at the task.

From her window, Morrigan watched her warden for as long as she could see him. She watched as he made his way down the street towards the city gates, and as he passed through those gates and into the lands beyond.

"Two weeks." She thought to herself.

* * *

Several days had passed since The Warden's departure and Morrigan found herself more alone and uncomfortable with each passing day. She was surrounded by strangers. Day and night she watched them move about their lives, trying to draw as little attention to herself as she possibly could. She longed for the peace and quiet of the wilds. Mostly the witch simply stayed in her quarters with her son.

But for Morrigan, the absolute worst part was the doubt. Was he really coming back for them? For her? She would try to rationalize it to herself and each time Morrigan convinced herself that he would really return, the doubt would always find a way to creep back in.

She had lived with the constant guilt of her actions since the moment he had found out about them. It was a strange sensation, remorse. Never had she ever felt even the slightest bit of regret for anything she had ever done. But, then again, she never cared about anything before.

At first, he was simply a fascination. A toy, as all men are. But her feelings grew into much more than that and, without her realizing, she had passed the point of no return. Other men in her life had professed such things to her as The Warden had, but they had never used actions rather than words to say it

And all the while was the feeling that she was being watched. As if there was someone perched in the shadows ready to pounce at any time. It was an unnerving sensation that she just couldn't shake.

"I'm not disturbing you, am I," Alistair asked as he stood by the door.

"Actually, the child and I were about to..."

"I just wanted to check up on you. He made me promise I'd look in on you."

"That is very...thoughtful of you, Alistair, but quite unnecessary I assure you."

"Are you sure don't need anything? Maybe something for the baby?"

"We possess all that we require. "

"Right. I'll just be going then." Alistair said as he started back out the door.

"Come to think of it, there is something that you can help with after all." Morrigan said. The witch appeared to be dealing with some internal thought process and it was troubling her, Alistair noted.

"What?"

"Before he left, had said something. Something I found rather odd. I simply have not been able to come to grips with it."

"That sounds serious. What did he say?" Alistair asked, finding himself surprisingly curious.

"He said we were a _family_."

"That's all he said? Why would that bother you?"

"I have never been part of a family before. I know not what the components of such things are. Would you place such a definition on us as well? Would you agree with The Warden's assessment, that we are, as he says, a family?"

"Sure, I guess. There's you, and him, and the baby. Why wouldn't you be a family?"

"Why not, indeed." Morrigan said as her attention drifted back to her thoughts on the matter.

* * *

It had taken The Warden three days to get to Lake Calenhad and The Circle Tower. Along the way, he was attacked by bandits. The Warden had given them fair warning as to his identity, but they were not deterred. They told him that The Grey Warden has left Ferelden and they called him an impostor. It didn't take long for The Warden's blade to confirm who he was.

Once he arrived at the tower he met with Wynne and appraised her of the situation. She, of course, gave The Warden full access to the tower libraries and even assigned two assistants to help him. Zakary and Tyresa, two apprentice mages who were both knowledgeable in ancient lore and mythology.

The Warden immediately went to work. He spent long hours staring at large tomes looking for anything that might help him deal with Flemeth. Time was running out and he knew he didn't have long before the hag would strike.

As the days dragged on, The Warden started to think there was no answer to his riddle. He could find nothing in all the books and scrolls he had poured over. He had researched all he could on Flemeth and still come up with nothing. That's when it hit him.

He was looking for the wrong thing. It occurred to him that the magic that helped to create his child could also save it. So he began to ask a different question: _How do you get the soul of a god out of a child_?

"Souls require vessels to inhabit, otherwise they will either be destroyed or travel to The Fade." Zakary told him, "Your child is acting as a vessel for the soul that inhabits him. In order to draw that soul from him you would need a place to store it; an artificial vessel created by magic. The stronger the soul, the more powerful the vessel required to store it."

"So where would I find a vessel strong enough to hold the soul of an old god?" The Warden asked the young mage.

"I don't know of any that would be powerful enough to contain such a thing." Zakary replied, "I'll take a look in the library, though. I know of several books on the subject. Perhaps I can find some answers there."

The Warden was exhausted and his head hurt from reading all day. He would head back to his room and get some much needed sleep. He had hoped that if he could figure out what Flemeth's plan was, then maybe he could stop it. And he intended on returning to his search as quickly as he could. He only had one day left before he had to return to Denerim and he needed to make the most of it. Circumstances, as always, would conspire against him.

That night, The Warden awoke with a start and sat up in his bed. Something was wrong. His internal beacon with Morrigan had told him of her position the entire time he had been away. It made him feel almost as if she was right by his side.

But now, it wasn't there anymore. He began to think it had become a permanent part of him, forever pointing the way to his beloved witch. But it was gone. And it hadn't faded away slowly either. It just vanished. A icy chill ran through his entire body. "She's gone!"


	5. Chapter 5

**Part V**

Light slowly crept into the window in the castle where Morrigan and her child slept, signaling the start of another day. The city was beginning to shake off the dark of night and was preparing to face the dawn. The sky overhead was free of clouds and the birds started up with their usual chorus of noisy chatter. By all indications it was going to be a beautiful day.

The baby began to stir as people in and around the palace went about their normal morning routines. Whether it was setting up merchant tables beyond the palace gates, the changing of the guard that was occurring in the palace courtyard, or the clank of the Blacksmith's hammer as he toiled in his forge, all of Denerim was coming to life..

Morrigan's eyes slowly opened as her child lay next to her in the large bed, kicking and fussing. She had been dreaming of The Warden and she longed to return to him. Morrigan rolled over on her side and offered a breast for the babe to suckle, which it took; greedily attaching itself.

She was wearing one of The Warden's shirts which she "borrowed" from his pack without his knowledge. It smelled of him she thought, and she wore it each night. It was entirely too large for her small frame and she would get tangled in it as she lay in the bed. But not even the archdemon itself could have gotten her to remove it.

As the child nursed, the witch closed her eyes once more and attempted to drift back to the only place where she could see her warden. The child, of course, had other ideas. After only a few short moments of suckling, the babe spit out the breast and began to fuss.

With a rather dissatisfied huff, Morrigan flung back the covers and begrudgingly removed herself from the bed. She was convinced her son was secretly plotting against her. Her small child was the mastermind of a conspiracy to prevent her from ever getting any sleep at all.

"Infernal creature." Morrigan muttered to herself as she lifted the infant from it's spot. Almost instantly the child became quiet. She carried the baby over to a large wicker basket that sat on a table beside the bed. The basket had been lined with a small pillow and a thick blanket. She placed the child within the basket and sat down in a chair in front of the vanity that lay against the wall and started to brush her hair.

Morrigan had always been extremely prideful of her appearance. She made it a point to look her best at any given time. But lately that was growing into a chore. She found it was getting harder and harder to compel herself to care about how she looked.

Staring into the small, round mirror on the vanity Morrigan noticed she was beginning to get dark circles under her eyes. She hadn't slept well in almost a week. Not since the infant's father left. The child would normally sleep through the entire night. But since The Warden had been gone, however, Seth had not stayed asleep for more than a few hours at a time. Morrigan counted the days until The Warden's return.

In another part of the palace, Alistair was dealing with some distressing news. He was to have a meeting with Ser Kalvin, one of the templars that was stationed in Denerim, about a most disturbing topic. It seemed that there were stories being spread that the king was harboring a maleficar. The Chantry, and The Circle of Magi were also concerned about the rumors as well. So Alistair was going to meet with Ser Kalvin to dispel any doubts the templar might have. The only problem was, the king had no idea how he was going to do that.

As was often the case, Alistair was alone in his study. He was trying to prepare for what he was going to tell Ser Kalvin. He sat behind the large wooden desk and contemplated his options; his fingers trailing along the intricate carvings of the desk as he thought. He had never been very good at lying. And that was exactly what we would have to do.

The bigger question was: how had word of Morrigan gotten out? Few people knew of the witch's presence at the palace and fewer still knew what she was. Only himself, The Warden, and Arl Eamon knew that Morrigan was an apostate.

And there was a difference between and apostate and a maleficar, Alistair thought. At least with her there was. He and the witch had never really gotten along, but he had faired better than most when it came to engaging her. He was even present at that first fateful meeting between Morrigan and The Warden. And while Morrigan could be cruel, she wasn't evil, at least Alistair liked to think she wasn't.

Soon Alistair would have to make his way to the main hall and face Ser Kalvin. He hoped he would be able to convince the templar that there was no need for concern. But the king knew all too well that if The Templars found the witch in the royal palace, the results would be catastrophic.

"Ser Kalvin is here to see you, Your Majesty." a servant at the door said.

"I'll be right there."

Alistair got up from his chair walked out from behind the desk and proceeded to exit the room, on his way to the main hall. And as he walked through the stone corridors he continued to think. Not only about the present situation, but others as well. For some time now he'd been feeling like something wasn't quite right. News had a way of spreading too fast lately, and that bothered him. Because that could only mean one thing. There was a spy in the palace.

But who? And more importantly, why? The thought of having a spy in the royal palace troubled Alistair deeply. He would have to find a means of flushing them out.

These were the types of days the made Alistair long for his time as a Grey Warden. Back when life was much simpler and all he had to do was kill a few darkspawn every now and again.

He would even settle for being a templar again. Although that was something else he was terrible at. Ser Kalvin had been one of the templars that beat Alistair in a tournament. That happened on the very same day Duncan conscripted Alistair into the Grey Wardens.

"Ser Kalvin, good to see you again." the king said as he walked into the room.

"Your Majesty." Kalvin replied, calmly.

"What can I do for you?"

"Well, Your Majesty, I'm sure you're aware of the vile rumors that people are telling."

"And what rumors might those be?"

"You haven't heard? Why all of Denerim is whispering about the maleficarum that you keep hidden away here in the palace."

Alistair pondered for a minute, "I haven't heard anything like that. That's just preposterous. What would I be doing with a maleficarum in the palace?"

"I wouldn't know, Your Majesty. But the stories are starting to get people concerned."

"Well, those stories are absolutely false." Alistair said while trying to look the templar square in the eye. It was a far more difficult feat than he first thought.

"That's good to hear. The Chantry and Circle of Magi will be glad to know," the templar said, "with all of the strange stories coming out of the palace these days it's hard to tell what's true and what's fiction. The people are even starting to believe The Grey Warden they witnessed only a week ago was actually an impostor. An impostor who is really a spy for Orlais."

"Are you trying to say something?" Alistair asked, becoming more than a bit perturbed. "You come here and start talking about stories and rumors being spread around and you say they've all come from the palace. What are you trying to imply, Ser Kalvin?"

"I'm not trying to imply anything, Your Majesty," the templar replied politely, "I was merely stating a fact.."

"Well here are the _real_ facts:" the king explained, his voice raising, "there is no maleficar within these palace walls and The Grey Warden was most certainly the real thing. I think know one of my best friends when I see him."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Ser Kalvin said .

"Do you have any more silly stories to waste my time with?"

"No, Your Majesty."

"Then good day to you. I have other matters that need my attention."

"Yes, Your Majesty. Good day, Your Majesty." Kalvin said with a deep bow. He then turned and walked out of the room.

While the meeting had gone better than Alistair expected, he was sure this wasn't the last he was going to be hearing about it. He would have to weed out the spy before things got dangerous.

He had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. Whatever was going on, The Warden and his witch seemed to be at the center of it. What had they brought with them back from the wilds? And what was it going to do to Ferelden?

Alistair figured it was as good at time to check on Morrigan and the baby. Something he hadn't done in a couple of days. He would honor his promise to The Warden to keep both the mother and child safe. But that was suddenly getting a lot harder to do than the king had anticipated.

After the long walk up several flights of stone and marble staircases, Alistair finally arrived at the entrance to Morrigan's quarters. The door to the room was slightly ajar and he peeked inside before knocking.

Morrigan's head lay resting on the table by the bed and she appeared to be asleep. Her right hand was laying over a basket on the table which contained the baby who was also asleep. Alistair decided against disturbing them and started to close the door completely. The hinges creaked loudly as he tried to do so. The infant shuddered briefly then lay quiet once more. Morrigan, however, had been awakened and she slowly lifted her head from the table and turned to face the location of the sound's source.

"Alistair!" The witch exclaimed, startled.

Alistair put his finger to his lips and then gestured towards the baby. The witch noticed the child was still sleeping and nodded.

"Come here for a second. I want to talk to you." he whispered.

Morrigan got up from the table and joined Alistair outside the room, in the hallway.

"Yes?" Morrigan asked, not looking fully awake yet.

"You look exhausted. Why don't you let me send a nanny to help you with the baby?"

"That is very generous of you, Alistair. But I do not require any assistance."

"Really?" the king asked, "When was the last time you got a good night's rest? Have you seen yourself in the mirror? "

"I shall have all the sleep I require when The Warden returns in a few days."

"In a few days? He won't be back for another week. I doubt you'll make it that long."

"Tis true that Seth has not been sleeping well as of late. Tis nothing I cannot handle."

"Are you sure?"

"I am positively certain."

"Alright, then. But I'll leave the offer open in case you change your mind."

* * *

"Wynne!" the warden shouted as he entered the library in Circle Tower, "Something's happened to Morrigan and I have to get back to Denerim immediately."

"Are you sure?" The old mage asked. She was sitting at one of the large tables that lined the room, reviewing an ancient manuscript. "How do you know this?"

"I have a connection with her, or at least had one, anyway. I can't feel her anymore."

"I was the one who cast the spell, remember. But I never thought the effects would last as long as they have. The beacon was meant to fade when you found your target." Wynne said, "Are you sure it isn't just the magic fading?"

"That's just it. It didn't fade out slowly. It stopped. Almost like someone had just turned it off."

"That is odd."

"I'm worried about her and Seth." The Warden said, "I think something might've happened."

"You should return to Denerim, then. We will continue our work here."

"Thank you, Wynne. I'll be back as soon as I can."

The Warden raced as fast as he could back to Denerim. But even so, it was a journey that would take him a few days at best. And the entire time he traveled all he could think about was what had happened to Morrigan and the baby. He cursed himself for leaving them alone. He should have taken them with him.

The roads in Ferelden were still in a fair state of repair. He could make good time if he didn't stop to rest except when he absolutely needed to. Leo had no problems keeping up and seemed to enjoy the pace at which they moved. The mabari was also extremely useful at deterring potential robbers along the highway as well.

Still, he was days away from his destination and The Warden was terrified that he would arrive far too late to do anything.

* * *

There was only three days until The Warden's return, Morrigan thought. Her stomach still twisting up in knots each time she thought about it. However, she was determined that at least on the outside she would show no wavering. Even though the witch was beginning to suspect that the servants were mocking her behind her back.

She was sure that when they looked at her, it was as if to say "There goes poor Morrigan. She's so naïve. She actually thinks he's coming back for her!"

But she would not give them the satisfaction of seeing her crumble in front of them. Instead, she would remain strong and show no weakness. There was no reason why The Warden would not return for her. He had clearly forgiven her. Hadn't he?

There came a knock at the door to her chambers. She rose from her place in the chair next to the large bed and proceeded to the door. She opened the door only slightly and peered through the small crack. "Yes?" she said.

"I need to talk to you about something important." It was Alistair. He seemed agitated, "can I come in?"

Morrigan opened the door and allowed the king to enter. He had a worried look on his face as he quickly walked into the room.

"We have a bit of a problem." Alistair said, "The Grand Cleric from the chantry in Denerim is on her way to the palace right now. She wants to talk with me."

"And how does this concern me?" Morrigan inquired.

"You're the reason she's coming. I don't know how, but she knows you're here. She plans on meeting with me as soon as she arrives."

A shock ran through Morrigan's body she realized what the implications were. "I have to get Seth away from here!" she exclaimed, "Those monsters shall not have either me nor my child!"

"I don't think there's time for that. She's already on her way here. And besides, where would you go?"

"I haven't time to waste with such things at the moment." Morrigan said while she began to gather the child's belongings. "First I must get far away from here."

"And how far do you think you'll get? A lone woman with a baby. They'll catch you almost immediately." Alistair reasoned.

"They would greatly regret doing so."

"And how will that help? Do you honestly think you can handle The Templars on your own? They're trained in skills that will cancel your magic. You know that."

"And what do you propose I do, Alistair? Simply sit idly by as the holy and all-knowing priests of The Chantry take my child and hand me over to The Templars?"

"Let me talk to her. I'm sure I can keep her from doing anything drastic."

"I seriously doubt that would accomplish anything." The witch said as she folded her arms.

"Let me try. I still have some pull left with The Chantry. My association with Dwemer should give me some leverage."

"If you should fail..."

"I won't. Trust me, everything will be fine." Alistair promised, "You have nothing to worry about."

"Considering that my options would appear to be limited, I am forced to take you at your word."

"Just stay here and I'll take care of it." Alistair said as he opened the door and walked out of the room.

Alyesa, The Grand Cleric of Ferelden, had already arrived at the palace, accompanied by four templars, and was impatiently waiting for Alistair's arrival in the throne room. She was a stern looking older woman who had been in service to The Chantry her entire life. She was the highest member of The Chantry in all Ferelden. Only The Divine in Orlais outranked her.

"King Alistair, it's so nice to finally make your acquaintance. I wish the circumstances of our first meeting weren't so dire." The Grand Cleric said to Alistair as he finally made his was to the throne room.

"As do I, Grand Cleric." the king said as he approached.

"It pains me to think that our very king would be sheltering a maleficar."

"Why would you think I'm hiding away a maleficar in the palace?"

"We have our sources, You Majesty. We know she's here. The time for games is over."

"What games are you talking about?"

"Please, Your Majesty. Morrigan, a Witch of the Wilds, is right now somewhere inside this very building. It would be best for all parties if you simply turned her over to us."

"And how do you know this?" Alistair asked as he again thought about the spy in his midst.

"I am not at liberty to discuss that. But I can assure you that our sources are very reliable."

"You will tell your king where you heard such things!" Alistair said, trying to take a bolder approach.

"I'm afraid I must decline. There are secrets The Chantry must keep even from the king. How I received this information in not what's important right now." said the cleric, unphased by the king's false bravado. "You will hand over the maleficarum to Ser Owen and her child will come with me."

"That is completely out of the question." Alistair stated sternly, "Morrigan was one of the people who saved Denerim from the blight. She was as brave and committed to the cause as any Grey Warden. You should be thanking her, not trying to arrest her. She's no maleficar. She's an apostate. If you knew anything you would know that there's a difference."

"The Maker has decreed otherwise. Her service to Ferelden was commendable, but the blight is over now. I'm sorry, Your Majesty. This is how it must be."

"There must be something I can do to persuade you. I'm not letting you take her" Alistair pleaded.

"If you choose not to cooperate, that is your right as king. But I would be forced to view any who had dealings with the palace as unclean and unfit for the chantric faith. I would have to discontinue any contact they have with The Chantry. And I would have to declare you a false king in the eyes of The Maker."

"You wouldn't dare." Alistair challenged, "That would seriously undermine my authority with the people.

"A regrettable consequence, Your Majesty." the cleric said very smugly.

"Neither one of us wants a power struggle over this. There has to be some compromise you're willing to take."

"What do you have in mind?"

"I hold her here, under guard. She won't be allowed to leave. And the child stays here as well."

"Impossible. We are to destroy all maleficars. No matter how much we might not like it. The Maker commands it."

"If you try to take her, you'll have to take her by force. Or you can be reasonable. It's your call. We both know that this could turn into something much larger if we don't come to some sort of understanding."

The cleric pondered for a bit. "Alright. We'll do it your way. But you arrest her and hold her in your dungeon, not in any comfortable quarters, and I'll have two templars assisting your guards at all times. And mind you, this is only a temporary arrangement. I will consider over it the next few days and decide how best to handle the situation. And the child will come with me."

"Unacceptable. The child has shown no magical talent at all. You don't have a claim to him."

"You are arguing semantics." The cleric retorted.

"Still, I'm right and you know it."

"Very well, the child shall remain here with you. But as soon as it exhibits any talent at all then we expect him to be taken to The Circle of Magi like any other would-be mage."

A large lump was developing in Alistair's chest. He hated how he felt. "We are agreed, then." he said to the cleric as he motioned towards the guards in the room. "Arrest Morrigan and place her in the dungeon." He told them, "Have a nanny go to her quarters and attend to the child. I will be right there."

The guards acknowledged the kings orders, turned, and headed out of the room. Alistair gave one final glare to the cleric as he followed them.

Upon reaching Morrigan's room, the guards quickly threw open the door and rushed in. Alistair stood outside. He didn't have the nerve to look the witch in the face.

"What is the meaning of this?" Morrigan questioned loudly.

"Morrigan, Witch of the Wilds and a maleficar," One of the guards said, "You are hereby placed under arrest by order of King Alistair Theirin."

"What is going on here?" Morrigan asked. Looking out the door she noticed Alistair standing there. "Alistair?"

"I'm sorry." was all he could say.

"You traitor!" She screamed at him, "Was this your plan all along? Coax me into complacency then strike when I am not looking?"

"I didn't have a choice." the king said as the guards surrounded Morrigan. She put up a valiant fight. Initially the guards were thrown off balance by her attack, but in her weakened state she couldn't continue long enough. She was soon overpowered by the guards and subdued.

"Take her to the dungeon." Alistair ordered his guards.

"He'll kill you when he returns! He's coming back for me and when he does he'll kill you!" the witch yelled at the king as the guards carried her away.

The nanny arrived soon afterward. Seth was lying on the bed, screaming and kicking. She picked the infant up and attempted to calm him. But the child wouldn't be soothed. He continued to cry no matter how the nanny tried to pacify him.

"What have I done?" Alistair thought to himself. He knew that Morrigan was right. The Warden would be returning in two days and he was not going to be happy about things at all.


	6. Chapter 6

**Part VI**

By the time The Warden reached the city of Denerim it was nightfall. As he approached the gates he noticed that there was not a guard to be seen and the gate was left open. He walked passed the gate and into the city. The street was dark and empty. There were no lights in any of the windows that he saw. Off in the distance he could make out the sounds of shouting. The shouts were coming from the direction of the palace. His pace quickened as he rushed to see what the commotion was about, his marbari, Leo, in pursuit.

Upon nearing the palace, The Warden encountered a large crowd of people. More of a mob really. They hollered and screamed all sorts of crazy things. Stones and lit torches were being thrown towards the palace. It all blurred together into a single cacophony of noise.

"Give us the witch!" One person yelled.

"And her false Grey Warden!" Another shouted. "We won't have The Chantry turn their back on us!"

"What's going on here?" The Warden asked one of the people in the mob.

"Did you fall off the Earth? You haven't heard the news?"

"What news? I've been away."

"The king is giving shelter to a maleficar! She's in the palace right now!"

An icy chill shot down The Warden's spine. "Is that so? What can you tell me?"

"Only that the king has her locked up in his palace. He's refusing to turn her over to The Chantry and keeps her in his dungeon."

"She's being held prisoner?" The Warden asked, completely shocked.

"Yes, but that's not even the worst part. The Chantry is said to be refusing services to anyone who follows the king."

"Where did you hear this?"

"Hear it? Everyone hears it. Everyone knows it. It's all over Denerim."

The Warden quickly moved towards the palace gates. It looked as though all the available guards in the city had been put on duty at the palace. As he neared the gate the guards recognized him and allowed him to pass.

"Is it true? Is she being held prisoner?" He asked one of the guards as he passed.

"Yes, My Lord." The guard replied.

"When?"

"Several hours ago."

The Warden hurried up the steps and into the palace. He flung open the large wooden doors.

"Alistair!" he shouted as he entered the palace. He noticed one of the palace servants and asked, "where's the king?"

"He's in the main hall, My Lord." The servant said with a slow nod.

The Warden stormed off down the hallway towards the main hall. The guards outside the main hall blocked his way only for a moment. However, once they saw the look in The Warden's eyes they stepped back into position and he passed by them, violently swinging open the doors and going inside.

Alistair was at the far end of the great table. In front of him was a parchment of some diplomatic importance that he was reviewing. Upon seeing The Warden storming in, Alistiar got up form his chair and held out his arm to his friend.

"You're back early." Alistair said, "Did you find what you were..." his sentence interrupted by a large fist making contact with his jaw. The king staggered and fell backwards on the ground, pain surging through the right side of his face.

The guards began to rush in but Alistair raised his hand, halting them. "I probably deserved that.", he said.

"What the hell is going on, Alistair? Why are you holding Morrigan prisoner? Where's my son?"

"I see you already know. I can't say I'm entirely surprised by that," the king said as he stood. "I had to arrest Morrigan. I didn't have any other choice."

"And that's supposed to make it better? What possible reason could you have?" The Warden asked furiously.

"It was the only way I could think of to save her life."

"What are you talking about?"

"It was either that or hand her over to The Templars. And they still might come for her."

"I'm getting her out of there." The Warden said as he turned to leave the hall.

"Dwemer, wait." Alistair said, going after him. "You can't do that."

"Watch me."

"We are on thin ice here. If you let her out then that mob outside will storm the palace for sure. They'll know about it. Somehow everything that is said in the palace gets out. I don't understand how it gets out, but it does. There has to be a spy. " Alistair tried to reason, "If The Chantry hears about it, which they will, then they'll cut off services to anyone who has anything to do with the palace. You see why I can't have that."

The Warden glared at Alistair. "I'm getting her out of there. I'm taking my son. And I am leaving."

There was a loud crash and the walls shook. The two men struggled to maintain their balance in the corridor. Soon, one of the palace guards came running up.

"You Majesty!" he shouted, "The mob has a catapult! They're attacking the southwest tower!"

"The prison cells!" Alistair exclaimed.

"Morrigan!" gasped The Warden, realizing the mob's intent.

"We need you at the front gates, Your Majesty. We're organizing a defensive strategy."

"I'm on my way." the king said as he turned to see The Warden and the mabari running off down the corridor towards the southeast tower. Alistair shouted "Dwemer! Don't do anything stupid!"

The Warden gave no acknowledgement of the king. Alistair sighed deeply, shook his head, and then followed after the palace guard.

There was another loud crash and the ground shook again. The Warden stumbled, nearly falling. He quickly regained his balance and proceeded down the corridor as fast as he could. The stairs to the dungeon were across the palace from the corridor in front of the main hall and it took The Warden several minutes to reach them. He followed the winding staircase downward until he reached the door at the end. It had been left wide open and there was no guard to be seen.

Pulling his blade from it's sheath, The Warden proceeded slowly through the doorway. He saw where the catapult had smashed through. There was a large hole in the wall in the corner cell. Rubble and debris were scattered everywhere. The door to that cell swung wide open. And to his surprise, two templars lie unconscious on the floor.

But there was no Morrigan. There was an old man in one cage, a younger man in another, and that was it. The rest of the cells were empty.

He hurried over to the broken cell. There were pieces of glyphs and runes on the floor and walls. The two templars, he determined, were in a struggle and hadn't been injured by the catapult's attack. He traced through the debris looking for anything. And there, lying on one of the large pieces of rock that had been strewn across the floor, sat a flower. Not just any flower, but a special flower: _Andraste's Grace_.

"Leliana."

The Warden turned and raced out through the door and back up the stairs, heading towards Morrigan's chambers. He made his way to the third floor of the palace and ran down the corridor. As he rounded the corner just before Morrigan's room he noticed two palace guards lying unconscious on the floor. The door to the room was open and he ran through it.

There was no sign of mother or child. The only thing remaining were a few articles of clothing that were left out as someone hastily packed.

How far behind her was he? His link with her had been severed and he had no clue where she was. But he knew she was alive, with the baby, and for some reason, accompanied by Leliana.

He grabbed a robe Morrigan wore previously that had been left behind and held it to the mabari. Leo sniffed the article heavily and when he knew the scent he barked affirmatively.

"Find her, boy." The Warden said.

The mabari began sniffing around the room feverishly. Leo sniffed one way and then the other, and when he found the trail he was after he gave an excited huff and quickly followed the scent out the door.

She had left a good path for them to follow. Man and dog rushed down the corridor. Leo sniffed his way to the back passages, down through the servants quarters, and out the back exit of the palace.

Once outside, the beast paused. There were many scents and he had trouble finding hers at first. But before long the mabari regained the trail, barking loudly as he did so.

She had stayed out of sight, taking the back way out of the palace. There was no crowd to contend with so Leo could easily follow her.

The path took several back allies as it wound it's way to the western gate of the city and into the wilderness. The Warden hoped she would be waiting for him somewhere out there. But he couldn't even be sure Morrigan even knew he was looking for her.

* * *

The light in her cell was dim and Morrigan had a hard time adjusting her eyes to it. She could see two templars standing guard just outside the door to her cell. Their presence made her uneasy. She was well aware of how templars handled maleficars.

She could hear the shouts of the mob outside the palace gates. They chanted, "Give us the witch!" accompanied by various other curses and threats against her.

There were glyphs and runes drawn on the floor and walls. These would inhibit her magic. She would be unable to use any spells at all. Not that she had any magic left anyway. She was in a weakened state. Moirrigan had used up the last of her power in trying to defend herself and her child.

The entire incident ran through the witch's mind. It infuriated her that Alistair would betray them like he did. She was a fool for trusting him. And if The Warden didn't kill him, then she would do the deed herself.

"So, witch," one of the templars said, "Is it true you used your blood magic to create the false Warden?"

"False Warden? Of what do you speak?"

"Do you think I'm stupid? ." the templar asked, perturbed, "Everyone in Denerim knows about it. How the real Warden is dead and you manufactured that fraud with your blood magic."

"Is that what you buffoons think? That I have somehow conjured up a duplicate Grey Warden? You simple minded fools never cease to amaze me!"

"Stop talking to me like I'm an idiot." the templar snapped.

"Then you should not make it so obvious that you are." Morrigan retorted.

"That's enough from you!" the senior templar said.

"I can assure you gentlemen that The Grey Warden is most definitely real. And when he arrives he shall prove it to you both...personally." Morrigan said with a sinister grin.

"I said quiet, you!" the senior templar reiterated.

"I don't like the sound of that." his companion said "I mean, what if she's telling the truth. Do you want to be the one to face the Warden?"

"What would The Warden be doing with a maleficar?"

"I don't know. But this whole thing doesn't feel right."

"You should listen to your companion." Morrigan said from her cell.

"No more talking!" the senior templar shouted, "And that goes for you, too." he added, looking towards the first templar.

Then, out of nowhere, there was a large crash against the wall. The Earth shook beneath Morrigan's feet and the prison cell wall was cracked. Small pieces of stone had been thrown to the floor.

"By the Maker!" said one of the templars, "What are you up to witch?" He turned around and faced through her cell door. She was still against the far wall, sitting on the lone bench.

Then came another loud crash. Something large smashed into the cell with great force. Large chunks of stone went flying everywhere. The senior templar grabbed his key and quickly unlocked the cell door. Clouds of dust and smoke were filling the room.

Morrigan thought she saw a shadow moving quickly through the smoke behind the templars.

One of them turned around to investigate and as he did a loud "CLANG!" was heard. The templar fell backwards to the floor, out cold.

"Who's there?" the other templar asked as he turned.

There was another loud "CLANG!" and he too fell to the floor, unconscious.

Morrigan slid back against the wall, coiled and ready to strike. She might not have any magic left, but she would still make whoever it was greatly regret attacking her.

But to the witch's amazement, no mob rushed at her. When the dust settled she could see only one person, a woman with shoulder length red hair, coming towards her. It was Leliana standing there holding a metal pitcher.

"I'm getting you out of here!" she shouted as she tossed the pitcher, "Hurry! Let's go!"

"How is it that you knew to find me here?" Morrigan asked, startled to see the bard.

"We'll talk about that later. First we need to get as far from here was possible."

"I shall not be going anywhere without my child."

"Your child?" Leliana asked, surprised.

"Yes. The Warden and I have a son. He is upstairs and I need to get to him."

"Let's do this quickly, then." the bard said as she reached into the breast pocket of her shirt and pulled out a flower. She set the flower down on a large piece of rubble, then ushered Morrigan out of the cell.

The mage and the bard moved quietly through the corridors of the palace on their way to the third floor, where the witch's chambers were. The guards were distracted by the mob outside and the pair were able to move about unnoticed. They hid around the corner from Morrigan's room and spied a pair of guards standing at the door.

Leliana pulled a coin from the pocket on her leather breeches and tossed it down the hallway, passed the two guards. It landed with a "ping!" on the stone floor.

As expected, the guards turned to look to see what the noise was. However, one guard turned his head the other way and noticed the pair peering out from behind the corner.

"What have we got here?" he said as he drew his weapon.

Leliana raced at the guard, who raised his blade to attack. When she got near him she slid feet-first between his legs. Once she was passed him, she raised her legs over her head and kicked the guard in the back, sending him flying into the floor.

The second guard swung his blade right at the bard's head. She was barely able to jump back in time. When he moved to take a second swipe, she grabbed his arm and followed him with his movement, relieving him of his weapon at the end of the swing.

Leliana flipped the blade in her hand as she continued to spin with the momentum, catching the guard on the side of his head with the sword's pommel when she came around. The templar fell to the floor with a large dent in the side of his helmet.

The nanny had cracked the door to witness all the commotion. Morrigan spotted her and said, "If you value your existence, then you shall vacate these premises immediately."

Panic raced across the face of the poor nanny and she flung the door to the room open and ran screaming down the hall. Morrigan rushed into the room, found her son lying on the bed and, scooped him up in her arms.

She held him tightly for a while, whispering to him, "I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry,"

"Come on! We have to go!" Leliana exclaimed. "Grab what you need and let's get out of here."

Morrigan set the child in its usual place inside the basket, and hurriedly grabbed a knapsack and began throwing items inside. They hadn't brought much with them when they left the wilds and Alistair had provided most of the things they did have. At that point she thought it was the least he owed her.

When she had grabbed all that she could, she threw the bag over her shoulder and hoisted the basket, with infant, from the table. "Ready whenever you are." she said.

Leliana nodded in affirmation. The bard then turned and spied out the door, checking to see if all was clear before proceeding. When she had confirmed the passage was safe, the witch, child, and bard quickly made their way out of the room while still attempting to remain silent and unseen.

They would take the back passages. Hopefully with the mob out front drawing most of the attention, they would be able to sneak out of the palace that way. Through the servants quarters. Outside the palace they would take the side allies and head to the western gate of the city. They would continue to head west for as far as they could, hoping to get as much distance covered before anyone realized what had happened and that the witch had escaped.

The going was slow in the darkness as they stayed off the main roads and instead traveled through the bush. Luckily the sky was clear and the stars and the moon shone brightly as they made their way. Finally, when it seemed as though they had covered many miles, Leliana stopped and said, "We should rest here. You look exhausted."

"It is imperative that we keep moving. I will be fine." Morrigan replied.

"You need to rest and get your strength back. You've been carrying that bag and a baby At least let me carry the bag."

"Very well. We shall rest. But only a moment."

They had hardly ever talked before, the bard and the witch. There was an awkwardness whenever they were alone together, which happened more often than either of them liked. Which was odd considering that they worked well together. The pair made an excellent team when called upon, even rescuing The Warden from Lord Howe's prison once. Although Leliana liked to credit that success to the fact the Morrigan kept her mouth shut the entire time.

Still, there they were. And with it, as always, came the awkwardness. Leliana, propped against a tree, and Morrigan, resting on a large rock, the baby beside her, said nothing for a long period of time.

Morrigan was normally resentful of the bard's friendship with The Warden. While both Leliana and The Warden professed that nothing was going on between them, it still made the witch uneasy. She was afraid that one day The Warden would come to his senses and see that wholesome, and pure Leliana was a far better fit for him. Leliana was compassionate, caring, and sociable. All the things that Morrigan was not. But he still stayed with her. Like some lost puppy that she couldn't get rid of.

"I had already been in Denerim for a few days." The bard finally said.

"Excuse, me?" Morrigan replied, perplexed.

"You asked me how did I know to find you there." Leliana explained.

"So I did. This I am most curious to hear."

"Well, I'd been in Denerim a few days already." The bard began, "The chantry we set up in the refugee camp was only temporary, and it was closed when most of the people in the camp had either resettled or relocated. I came to Denerim hoping to spend some time at the chantry here. I saw a great deal of suffering and I needed to get away from that."

"So how does this relate to me?" Morrigan asked.

"Denerim is crazy with rumors right now. It's like a disease. I was hearing stories everywhere about you and The Warden. Then it was going around that you had been arrested. But for some reason Alistair still wouldn't hand you over to The Chantry. There were even more stories that The Chantry would refuse services to anyone who followed the king."

"So, obviously, the small minded cretins formed a mob to fetch me themselves."

"Exactly."

"But what were you doing there?"

"I wasn't there planning on breaking you out, if that's what you mean. I came to see if I could do something to help settle the people down. But no one in the crowd would listen. No matter what I said to them. That's when I noticed that some of the people in the crowd had found a catapult that was almost finished being built and dragged it over near the palace and they used it to attack."

"Those attacks came very near to where I was sitting. " The witch noted.

"I was on the edge of the crowd directly in front of the southeast tower, when I noticed the catapult had broken through the wall. I don't think anyone else had a chance to notice because palace guards came rushing out into the mob at that point. That's when I decided to sneak into the breach."

"Your timing was most appropriate. You have my thanks." Morrigan said as she stood up, "But we had best be continuing on our way."

"At least let me carry the bag." Leliana said, holding out her hand to the witch.

"Very well. If you insist." Morrigan replied as she removed the bag from her shoulder and began to hand it to the bard. Her hand stopping mid-way.

"Do you hear something?" Morrigan asked.

There was a pause for a bit as the two women listened to the sounds coming from the distance. There was no mistaking the sound. Loud barking. And it was getting closer.

"They've released the dogs!" Leliana exclaimed in horror, "We have to move!"

"Out running them is not an option. We will never make it."

"What do suppose we do, then?" the bard questioned.

"We stand and fight! They are not taking my child and I'll not be going back to any cell!"

"Are you crazy?"

"Do you have a better suggestion?"

Leliana quickly weighed the alternatives, coming up with nothing. "Fight it is, then." she said.

The two prepared themselves for combat. Morrigan quickly tucked the infant behind a tree and out of sight. Leliana drew her blade and coiled herself, ready to strike. All the while the barking was getting ever closer. Soon rustling of bushes and shrubs could be heard.

Then it sprang from the bushes. A mass of fur, slobber, and stench mauled Morrigan, knocking her to the ground. A large slimy tongue began sliding across her face, repeatedly licking her, accompanied by loud, excited barking.

Fear turned to rage as the witch realized the beast's identity. "Get off of me you slobbering lummox!" she yelled as she tried to wipe her face.

The Warden stepped into view from the shadows, "That's enough." he commanded and the marabi retreated away from Morrigan and back to it's master. "Good job, boy." he said, patting the dog on the head.

It took a moment for Morrigan's eyes to focus. But when she did finally see The Warden, she stood up quickly, went over to him, and embraced him.

"You are early." she said softly looking at him.

"Sorry." he replied with a grin. He pressed his lips to hers in a deep kiss that the witch considered a very satisfactory apology.

Leliana coughed a bit to draw their attention.

"Leliana!" The Warden said, startled. He walked over and gave the bard a huge bear-hug, causing Morrigan to turn her back so the others couldn't see her grimace and gag.

"Leaving me the flower was a good idea."

"I thought you might like that." Leliana replied with a smile.

"Do I even want to know how you got here?" he asked.

"It's a long story that I can explain in detail later." she answered, "The big question is, how did you find us?"

"Leo led the way. He followed the trail you left."

"The dog?" Morrigan said, shocked, "What of your, so called, 'internal compass' that supposedly points to me?"

"It just stopped. I can't explain it. That's why I left Circle Tower early. I thought something happened to you so I headed back to Denerim as fast as I could."

"Something has indeed happened."

"Where's Seth?" The Warden asked, looking around.

Morrigan went to where she had set the child and retrieved him. "He is well and unharmed." she said. "Now we must decide what is to be done about Alistair."

"He'll most likely be coming after us." The Warden said.

"I will see him dead." Morrigan stated, coolly.

"I know you're mad at him. And you have every right to be. But you can't be serious."

"I will not have you taking his side in this matter!" The witch said fiercely.

"I'm not taking his side." The Warden replied, "He was trying to save your life. He just did it all wrong."

"He took Seth from me!" Morrigan said, glaring at him, "he betrayed me and took my child from me! And yet you find compassion for him. Why?"

"Because that's who I am. I'm mad at Alistair too, but I don't hate him for what he did. Although I did knock him on his arse."

"You hit Alistair?" Leliana asked, amazed.

"The guards started to intervene, but he waived them back. He said he deserved it."

"To say the very least." Morrigan interjected, "But enough of such talk. We shall discuss this matter another time."

"That just means you're going to stay angry with me about it. Because every time you say that, we never talk about that subject ever again." The Warden said, exasperated.

"You two have been reunited for less than two minutes and already you're arguing." Leliana said with a grin, "Some things never change."

"But if you don't fight, then you never get to make up." The Warden replied, winking.

"Eww!" Was all the bard could muster.

* * *

"We've contained the last of the mob, Your Majesty." The Captain of the Guard informed Alistair. "We've rounded up some thirty people and the rest dispersed and went home."

The king was in the dungeon, accompanied by Arl Eamon, looking at the remains of what was once a prison cell in the palace. A catapult had knocked a whole in the wall and there was rubble all over the floor. The cell's door swung open, it's occupant gone.

As the two templars on duty were explaining the series of events, more or less, to their superior, Alistair inspected the debris.

"What of the maleficar?" The Captain asked.

"I plan on looking for her. I want your ten best men. I will lead them personally."

"Yes, Your Majesty." The Captain said with a bow as he turned and left back up the stairs.

"Alistair, you can't go riding off after her, yourself." Eamon said to the king.

"If I don't find her before The Templars do, they'll kill her on the spot. And probably the child, too." Alistair said as he turned to face the arl, "I can't let that happen. I have to find both of them. It didn't take word long to spread that The Warden helped a maleficar escape."

"And what happens when you do find them? The Chantry is already offering a reward for both The Warden and Morrigan. Do you dare defy them? That is a dangerous path to walk, Alistair."

"I won't openly defy The Chantry. But I am going to look for them, personally, Arl Eamon. It's my fault that this happened. I'm responsible. I should have gotten her and the child out of the palace as soon as Ser Kalvin showed up. But I didn't. I thought I could keep them safe. But I couldn't."

"This is not your fault, Alistair. They brought this down upon themselves. We knew The Warden's association with a maleficarum was dangerous. We even tried to tell him so. It was their choice to bring their troubles to your doorstep." Eamon responded.

"I don't see it like that. To me, a friend asked for my help and I let him down."

"There is nothing I can say that will change your mind, then?"

"I'm afraid not."

"As you wish, but I beg you to reconsider."

"The subject is closed. We leave at dawn."


	7. Chapter 7

**Part VII**

Derik, The Captain of the Royal Guard, had assembled the ten best men he had available and equipped each man with the best steed available. Each soldier's blade was sharpened and ready. They sat at attention on their mounts in the front courtyard, eager to begin their hunt for The Warden and the maleficar.

Two Dalish scouts came running up to Alistair, who was giving final instructions to Arl Eamon. The elves were male and female. He with long blonde hair and she with hair of flame. Both of them dressed in drab colored clothing covered by leather armor. They had been sent out a while earlier to scan for any indications of the fugitives and were now reporting back.

"There's a trail leading to the west. From the look of it, they were in a hurry." The male elf said, breathing heavily. "They've stayed off the main roads."

"Let's get moving!" Alistair ordered as he climbed onto the back of his mount.

"At least take more than these few men with you." Eamon pleaded with the king.

"He's not stupid. He'll know we're coming for him. A smaller group can move more quickly and quietly, and more importantly, attract less attention."

"What about The Templars? They're going to be looking for The Warden as well."

"Yes, but they won't send out agents after him. They'll use their network. There are templars in virtually every town and village in Ferelden. Then there's all the chantries. He won't be safe anywhere."

"And suppose by some small miracle you do succeed? Then what?" the arl questioned.

"I haven't got that part worked out just yet." Alistair replied. "But I do have one big advantage."

"Oh? And what might that be?"

"I know where he's going."

Alistair kicked his heels into the side of his horse, spurring it into rapid motion. The sound of hoof and shoe striking stone reverberated throughout the entire palace and beyond. Captain Derik and each of the cavalrymen followed in kind, breaking their horses into full gallop. With his charges in pursuit, the king sped out of the city and into the wilderness.

* * *

"You have no clue where we are." Morrigan moaned, "We've been completely lost for hours."

"We are not lost." Leliana snapped back. "I know exactly where we are going. We are headed west. Were we are supposed to be going."

"I find that highly unlikely, considering the fact the Sun happens to be over our _right_ shoulder and has been so all day...Dwemer, would you please explain to this impossible creature that she hasn't even the most minute sense of direction in any bone of her being."

"I'm staying out of it." The Warden said, waiving both his hands in front of him.

"That would seem to be your favorite answer of late." the witch said with a scowl.

"What do you want me to say? All you two have done for the past three days is argue. You argue about which direction we're going. You argue about the weather. You argue about the food. You argue about _everything_. I bet you'd argue about not having anything to argue about."

"That is absolutely ridiculous. Twas no argument at tall. I was merely pointing out an inaccuracy in Leliana's bearing."

"So that's what you call it?."

"Think what you wish, I care not."

"You never treated any of the others like that."

"Of whom do you speak?"

"Sten, Oghren, and the others."

"Had it not occurred to you that is because, at your behest, it was you, myself, that girl, and dear sweet innocent Alistair doing the majority of the work? At the very least you could have replaced one of them with the dog every now and again. Or replaced me for that matter. Had I been given greater opportunity to fraternize with the others in our caravan of misfits I'm sure you would be proud to know that I would have been equally vile to them as well."

"I know how you talk to people. But with Leliana there's more. Something else. It's not jealousy. It's something different. What's going on with you two?"

"So, you have not told him?" Morrigan asked as she glared at Leliana.

"Told me what?"

There was a long silence as The Warden looked at Leliana. It looked as if she wanted to tell him something important. Something she had done. Something mean and hateful. But she just couldn't summon the courage.

"Nothing." Leliana answered meekly.

"I see. Very well, then." the witch retorted smugly. "I am positive Zevran greatly appreciated the five silver."

"Five silver...what?" The Warden asked, suddenly very confused. "Leliana, what is she talking about?"

Leliana frowned and lowered her eyes. She couldn't look at either The Warden or Morrigan. She knew exactly what the witch meant and it stung deeply.

"Morrigan? Will someone tell me what's going on?"

"It seems to me the purpose of this exercise is to make progress, not make conversation. We should be continuing." Morrigan quipped, ending the discussion.

"But...but..." The Warden stumbled, still very confused..

"Come, my sweet. We've little time to dawdle." the witch prodded, as if nothing had just been said.

"West is this way, Leliana." The Warden said in an exasperated tone, pointing in the proper direction.

The group trekked westward across the Ferelden interior and well into The Bannorn. A march that took them several days. This was the most populace region of Ferelden and remaining out of sight would be difficult. They still traversed the back country and stayed away from the main roads. The going was rough and slow for all but the mabari who seemed to enjoy the excursion very much.

The Warden planned on returning to Circle Tower to see if any progress had been made by Zakary. Stopping Flemeth was his top priority and he still felt there was an answer to found at the tower. If there were no news, he had decided he would take mother and child as far away from Ferelden as he possibly could.

The Warden had thought that Alistair would be getting close by now. But as the distance from Denerim grew, there was no sign of the king. He knew there was only two reasons that could explain this. The first being that Alistair had decided not to pursue them at all. The second being that Alistair was already ahead of him and waiting at his destination. He determined the second reason was the more likely of the two and he would have to figure out how to deal with Alistair before they got to Circle Tower.

The party stopped in a small village named Nathsbury to resupply. It was a quaint place. The blight had never made it this far north so this village was left virtually untouched. Leliandra had even commented that should like to live in a place like that one day, if she ever decided to settle down.

The village was large enough that it had it's own chantry. That meant there would be Templars to contend with. So Morrigan, Leliana, the mabari, and the infant would wait in the trees, just outside of town, while The Warden conducted the necessary business. He would be as brief as he could and wore the hood on his shirt over his head to keep from being recognized.

Just inside the village on the main road was a small general store. The shop carried a variety of items, ranging from weapons, to herbal components, and even a shiny bauble or two. The Warden looked around the store, selecting a few items here and there. He even picked out a shiny gold bracelet that was encrusted with small purple and blue gemstones. He often bought gifts for the witch. Morrigan had a fondness for such shiny trinkets, and this would make a nice addition to her collection.

That was something he thought was rather odd about her. She definitely preferred the finer things in life. She was sophisticated and well educated. But yet she was raised in the wilds. She had even confessed of having to learn table manners on her first extended trips to civilization. So how where did her sophistication come from?

Just as he was making the purchase for the items he selected, the door to the shop swung open. In walked a man covered in shiny silver armor from head to toe. On his chest was a large sword of mercy.

The Warden looked away upon recognizing the templar. He tried to keep his head down. The templar slowly walked across the wooden floor of the shop; his armor creaking as he walked. He approached The Warden and stood next to him. The templar said nothing, merely looking over the hooded stranger in his town.

"I don't know you." The templar said. "You're new around here."

"Just a traveler passing through.".The Warden replied.

"Passing through, huh? From where?"

"Gwaren." The Warden lied.

"Gwaren, eh?" The templar said, whistling, "That's quite a ways from here." The entire time he spoke, he moved his head to try to get a better look at The Warden, who stayed ducked underneath his hood.

"What are you hiding under that hood?"

"It's nothing. I don't want to talk about it."

"I'd say it's something alright. A man doesn't just go wandering about town with a hood pulled over his head."

"I have a scar...I don't like people to see it." The Warden lied again.

"Must be some nasty scar to make you hide your face."

"It is."

"Pull that hood back and let's have a look at you."

"I'd rather not."

"Well I'd rather you did, so pull it back!" the templar commanded.

The Warden slowly pulled the fabric of the hood back, revealing his face to the templar and the shopkeeper. The templar just stared at him. As if he was staring at something very hard, trying to figure out exactly what he was seeing.

"Is that it?" The templar said pointing to a small one and a half inch scar on The Warden's chin. It was a scar he had received while chasing after his older brother, Fergus. Fergus was teasing him as usual and he had raced after his brother. He tripped and fell, cutting his chin in the process.

"Yes."

"_That's it_?" the templar asked again in disbelief.

The Warden simply nodded his head.

"That's hardly a scar at all. I heard you coastlanders were vain, but I never believed it could be this bad until now." The templar laughed and said, "alright, Scar, your welcome to barter hear in town, but make it quick." He turn around and exited the shop, still laughing as he left.

Soon, The Warden had purchased the desired items and was on his way. As he was making his way back out of town he happened to spy wanted posters for both himself and Morrigan posted on a sign; the likenesses not much resembling either the witch or himself. Curiously, there was no such sheet for Leliana. That meant no one knew of her involvement in helping Morrigan escape. As long as she was never seen with Morrigan or The Warden, she would be safe.

When he returned to were the others were hidden, he relayed the information to the bard. Morrigan was naturally overjoyed by the news. Leliana, however, wasn't nearly as pleased as The Warden thought she would be.

"You can go back to the chantry at Denerim." The Warden told her, "You shouldn't be out here with us. It's a dangerous risk."

"I can't just leave you out here." Leliana replied.

"I think it best if you did as The Warden suggested." Morrigan said, trying hard not to sound like she was pushing.

"I'd rather stay. You need me." the bard urged.

"If you are seen with us that will make you a fugitive, too." The Warden said.

"We already thought I was a fugitive. So how will that be any different?"

"Because now we know you don't have to be here."

"And what if I wanted to stay?"

Morrigan cast another of her famous glares at The Warden. This one saying: _Do not think for one second that you are going to allow 'that girl' to continue to accompany us_.

"I guess I can't make you leave..." The Warden slowly answered.

"It's settled, then." the bard said, smiling.

Morrigan's gaze began to say even worse things to The Warden. Things which no mere words can describe.

"The more mad you get, the more beautiful you are." he whispered in her ear.

"Right now, I must be downright gorgeous." the witch replied with a seductive hiss.

"I'll make it up to you, later." he said as he softly placed kisses on the side of her neck. "I promise."

"_You_ had better."

* * *

Alistair, Captain Derik, and the ten cavalrymen had been at Circle Tower for two days. The king figured it was the most likely place The Warden would go and Alistair intended to be the first to greet Dwemer when he and Morrigan arrived. The king wasn't sure how far ahead of The Warden he was, but he knew they were on foot and taking the back country so it could still be days before they reached the tower.

The Circle Tower was home to the Circle of Magi and, as such, there was a strong templar presence. Getting to The Warden first wasn't going to be easy with all of the templars around. He was going to have to do some swift thinking to out maneuver them.

The king told, newly appointed, Knight-Commander Durant, that he was there to help the templars in their search of the fugitive False Warden and his maleficar queen. He explained that he and his men were there to personally assist Durant.

Durant might have just been recently made Knight-Commander, but he was no fool. He'd been a templar for years and was well experienced with friends of the fugitives "just wanting to help." It meant, more often than not, that they intended to get in the way. The Knight-Commander cast a suspicious eye on the king and his men and would tell his templars to watch them closely.

While there were a large number of templars at Circle Tower, there were hardly any others around for several days ride. Alistair used this to his advantage by going to The Spoiled Princess, a pub located at the docks on Lake Calenhad, and paying a patron to tell Durant that he saw the escaped maleficar in Keething, a village a day and a half ride to the northeast. It took more gold sovereigns than Alistair liked, but eventually the fellow agreed to do the deed.

The man was someone Durant knew and believed and he took the bait. He gathered most of his forces and left for Keething that same night. Alistair breathed a deep sigh of relief as he watched Durant and his men ride out towards the north. But he knew it had only bought him three days at best. Hopefully it would be enough time.

Now, Alistair had to figure out how to put a stop to the lunacy once and for all. The Warden would not go easily, especially if he was protecting the witch and the child. The king would have to convince his friend to give up peacefully. For the sake of both mother and child. Alistair was still certain he could resolve this issue without violence.

Once everyone knew there was no such "False Warden" he might have a better chance getting The Chantry to be more compliant. With the backing of the Grey Warden, the king would have the political leverage he needed against them. And that's always what it was about anymore: Politics.

That was a lesson he learned early on as king. Right and wrong became relative. Even concerning the simplest matters, it was always about building allies who aligned themselves to your beliefs and trying to force your influence by sheer numbers or will.

It was up to Alistair to keep things from spiraling out of control. He had hoped that cooler heads would prevail. But so far it wasn't looking like it. And the king desperately needed The Warden's help in restoring peace and stability to Ferelden.

* * *

The Sun was starting to set on another long day walking through to wilderness of The Bannorn, as the party made it's way to Circle Tower. The Warden knew they were close to the tower and figured that the next day they would arrive. It was a trip that normally took just under three days from Denerim, but had taken them more than a week of cutting across the back country and staying out of sight.

The group had made camp for the evening and the Warden had gotten a fire lit. They chose to stop for the night in a large clearing that sat among several hundred acres of forest. He was unsure as to which bann the area belonged to, but the party would be long gone before anyone even knew they had been there.

Leliana was going through the supplies that he had bought earlier in the day at Nathsbury, Leo had found a rather large tree branch that he was dragging about, stopping to chew on the end from time to time, and Morrigan was tending to the infant, who was lying on some blankets covering the grassy ground. As she hoisted the child over her shoulder and walked closer to the fire The Warden noticed that she was favoring her right foot with each step and he could tell that she was trying to hide it.

"What's the matter with your foot?" he asked the witch.

"Tis nothing." she quickly replied.

"_Tis_ obviously something." He shot back, "a blister?"

"I said _tis nothing_." she repeated, sternly.

"Now I know it's a blister. How bad is it?"

"Why must you insist that I am some frail and delicate thing. Can you not simply trust me at my word?"

"If you have something hurting your foot and don't let me look at it, it could turn septic. You know that." The Warden scolded.

"You forget, I was raised in the wilds. I am accustomed to such things and have the knowledge and skill to address the matter."

"Morrigan..." he said looking at her, "don't you think I know_ that's_ _the foot_."

"You will silence immediately!" she ordered in a huff.

"Let me take look at it." The Warden said.

"You will most certainly not."

"You know it doesn't bother me. I've already seen it a thousand times." He said looking into her golden eyes.

The witch rolled her eyes, then relented. She sat down on a log that had been drug next to the fire, baby still resting over her shoulder. The Warden gestured with his hands and she raised her right boot to him, which he removed. The entire time the witch was scanning to make sure that Leliana was sufficiently preoccupied.

One day, when Morrigan was a young girl, she was running through the forest as fast as she could. Laying unseen in the weeds was a sturdy root sticking out of the ground and as the young witch ran by, it caught her foot squarely. Her foot was broken badly. Flemeth told her that was a reminder to always be wary for the unseen. That was the only aid the old hag would render. As a result the second smallest toe on Morrigan's right foot never healed properly and was still slightly misshapen. The tip curved inward towards the next bigger toe, and the nail grew at a slight angle.

Other than the one loan flaw, her foot was otherwise perfect. Morrigan however, was very mindful of it. She felt as though it contained a bright beacon that would automatically attract the look of anyone. As a result she rarely went barefoot, choosing instead to cover up the grotesque digit. The Warden knew the sensitivity of the subject and usually steered well clear of it, but an inflamed blister could cause real problems, especially if the group was seen and needed to move rapidly.

He examined the sole of her foot in the firelight. In the center was a large, ruptured blister. It was starting to turn red and become inflamed. The Warden opened a small jar of salve and dipped a clean cloth inside. He then dabbed the cloth against the bottom of the witch's foot, attempting to clean the affected area. Her leg jumped a little with each dab. When the wounded area was clean, he proceeded to wrap a bandage around it.

"Almost done." He said as he was finishing.

"Do not stare at it!" She whispered forcefully, trying not to attract the bard's attention.

"I'm not staring at it." The Warden replied, "I have to look at your foot to wrap it. Would you rather I closed my eyes?"

"Do what you must. But be quick."

"There." He said as he slipped her boot back on, "Now try to stay off it for the rest of the night and it should be a lot better in the morning."

The witch wiggled her foot in the boot, "You spend entirely too much time doting upon me. You need to pay more attention to the task at hand." she said as she did so.

"You're welcome." he said back to her, smiling.

"Impossible man." she purred.

Reaching into the pocket on his shirt, The Warden retrieved the bracelet he had purchased earlier in Nathsbury.

"I have something for you." he said as he held the bracelet out towards her in his hand.

"You are always attempting to garner my affections by showering me with trinkets and baubles." Morrigan said with mock anger.

"So you don't want it, then?" he asked, "I guess I could always give it to..."

"Do not dare to say it!" the witch exclaimed in a huff.

The Warden looked at his witch in the firelight. Her golden eyes sparkled as the flames danced. He was captivated by her. She held her wrist out to him and he wrapped the bracelet around it. She stood there a while, looking at the bracelet, and admiring the gems and gold as they glistened by the fire's soft glow.

He had thought of making the rest of the journey alone. It would be best, especially if they were expected. But he knew the others would just follow him no matter how much he told them not to. Except maybe Leo. The mabari was the most cooperative one.

Alistair was waiting for them, The Warden was sure of it. But what he didn't know was if the king was working with The Templars. If that was the case, which he had no cause to think it wasn't, then things would be significantly more difficult. He would have to come up with a plan to slip into the castle completely unseen. The more he pondered it the more he began to think it was impossible. Then he had a realization. If he couldn't get into the tower unnoticed, then he would have to do it in the open. In broad daylight. He knew exactly what had to be done.


	8. Chapter 8

**Part VIII**

It was the strangest thing that Alistair had ever seen. He just couldn't figure it out. For a while he'd been watching this lunatic sparrow that seemed to have a grudge against him. The bird appeared to be absolutely mad.

Alistair had just come out of Circle Tower after talking with Wynne, who had assured him that she would alert the king immediately if she saw The Warden, and was coming down the main steps and headed for the concourse on his way to check in with Captain Derik. He remembered thinking to himself what a nice day it was going to be when out of nowhere a sparrow came streaking out of the sky, aimed right for Alistair's head. He was able to duck just in time, but the bird circled around for another pass. Again, he was able to dive out of the way, this time landing face down in the dirt.

That seemed to satisfy the creature and it flew up towards the tower and landed one of the many ledges. When it landed it seemed to be having trouble with it's right foot, and treated it gingerly. It would hold it's right claw off the ledge when it stood still. Sometimes only hopping on one leg altogether as it moved about, appearing to be looking for something specific. Alistair came to the conclusion that the animal was injured and mad with pain.

The bird would go from ledge to ledge, checking the various small windows. Hopping from one to the other and examining each in turn. After several long minutes of searching it apparently found what it sought as it ducked inside one of the tiny windows on near the top of the tower.

Thinking he had seen the last of the insane creature, Alistair let it slide from his mind. Then, about twenty minutes after he last saw the sparrow, he felt something warm splat against the top of his head. A vile substance began to run into the king's eye, stinging it. He yelled in rage at the bird and began to chase after it, ordering his men into the fray.

Alistair commanded his best bowman to take aim at the bird. The archer let loose his arrow at the beast and it sliced the air on course to it's target. The small and agile bird flapped out of the way at the last second, narrowly avoiding death. The sparrow flew in several tight circles, chirping loudly as it did, before it flew away into the trees and out of sight.

Alistair and his men just stood there for a bit, looking at one another. It was the strangest thing that they had ever seen.

* * *

They had reached the southeastern shore of Lake Calenhad early in the day and traveled northward until they saw the tip of Circle Tower sticking out of the treetops, several miles in the distance. That would be as close as they could get without risking being detected.

"And how am I to know which of these mages is your Zakary?" Morrigan asked as she removed the child from her back. The Warden had adjusted his backpack so that it could carry the child. She handed the pack, infant inside, to him.

"He's a young man, no more than twenty. Dark brown hair that's cut short." The Warden answered as he received the child.

"That description could fit any number of apprentices within the tower."

"He spends most of his time in the library. Looking at tomes on ancient artifacts and mythologies. He shouldn't be too hard to spot."

"Suppose he chooses to alert my presence to every templar in sight, what then?" the witch replied.

"Then get out of there as quickly as you possibly can. But I don't think that Zakary will do that. He knows what your mother is after. He knows we have to stop her."

"Let us hope you are correct."

"The library is near the top. Be quick and be safe." The Warden urged, "And promise me you won't try to do anything to Alistair if you seen him."

"Why must you assume I would do anything at all?" the witch questioned.

"Because I know you. If you see Alistair you'll do something and I don't want you getting caught, or worse, hurt. So promise me you'll only look for Zakary and deliver the message."

"The amount of faith you place in my abilities is staggering." Morrigan said as she folded her arms.

"Promise me you won't go near Alistair."

"Very well. _I promise_." She said, casting him another of he glares.

He bent down and kissed the witch softly. She slowly pulled away from him and raised her arms in the air. There was a flash of light as Morrigan transformed herself into a small, brown sparrow. She chirped several times, hopped up from the ground, and flew away in the direction of the tower.

Leliana could tell that The Warden was worried about sending Morrigan to Circle Tower alone. But if anyone had the best chance of getting inside unnoticed, it was the witch, shapeshifting being one of her primary fortes. With luck, she would be able to penetrate the tower and locate Zakary. For the time being, the only thing The Warden could do was wait.

He and the bard waited in a small clearing surrounded by brush and smaller trees, with few larger trees in the distance. The top of Circle Tower could easily be made out several miles to the northeast, rising over Lake Calenhad.

"She'll be alright. Morrigan can take care of herself." Leliana said, placing her hand on The Warden's shoulder.

"I hope you're right." he replied, still staring off in the direction the witch had flown.

"Of course I'm right. You'll see. She has reasons to come back safely."

"Reason? And what might those be?"

"You and Seth, of course." Leliana said with a smile that seemed a bit forced, "If I had something like that to come back to I would make sure I made it."

"Someday you will." The Warden said in a convinced tone.

"Someday..." Leliana repeated. "I keep telling myself that."

"You just have very high standards." he reassured.

"Sometimes I think what it might have been like. If it were me instead of her, I mean."

"I don't follow you."

"I you had chosen me instead of Morrigan." the bard said softly.

"But I never even knew you felt that way about me. I thought that all you wanted from me was friendship."

"How could you _not_ tell?" Leliana quipped, "I didn't think I could make it more plain. Perhaps you never saw it because you were too busy following Morrigan to her tent."

"What is that supposed to mean?" The Warden asked.

"You know full well what I mean. It had hardly even been a week into our journey before she threw herself at you."

"We had already determined that we liked each other's company. But our relationship has never been based on just that."

"I know it's not." Leliana said, looking away and staring off into the wilderness, "I didn't mean to imply that it was."

The bard paced slowly towards the edge of the clearing. "I'm just mad at myself. That's all."

"Why would you be mad at yourself?"

"In a different time, before I joined the cloister, I would have done many of the same things that Morrigan has. I would have shamelessly thrown myself at you without hesitation." the bard explained, "But I chose to honor my vows and restrain myself. If I had been more forward, you might have picked me instead."

"I can't answer that. I don't know." The Warden said trying to be both truthful and soothing.

"At least you're honest."

* * *

Morrigan was completely exhausted. In her bird-form she burned energy much more quickly, especially in flight. She was returning from Circle Tower, where she had found Zakary and given him The Warden's message.

The message was to meet with The Warden at a location several hundred yards from where they were camped. The fact that the apprentice made no effort to contact the templars upon her arrival was cause enough to hope that he could be trusted, the witch thought. Indeed, he had been quite accommodating to her need for secrecy.

It was apparent that the young mage held some secrets of his own. But he refused to tell the witch anything, preferring instead to wait until his meeting with The Warden. Only then would he tell what he had found.

As Morrigan approached the clearing where the others were, she fluttered up to the branches of a nearby tree, unseen by either The Warden or Leliana. She sat there on the branch for a bit and watched them.

He held the infant in his arms while standing by the fire, the bard next to him. They appeared to be talking. Morrigan had a hard time making it out clearly, but the girl seemed to be yammering on about her hopes and desires. There were some things about what she desired in an ideal man. His height, hair, mannerism and other such nonsense. What the witch heard next, however, ruffled all of the feathers on her tiny frame.

"...I don't know, someone a lot like you." Leliana said to The Warden.

The witch nearly transformed herself into a giant spider and attacked the bard, but she decided to let the scene play out a bit longer and held her place on the branch.

"I don't know. Morrigan would probably tell you something different." He said, chuckling.

"You two are lucky to have each other." Leliana replied.

"I'm the lucky one."

"She's lucky, too." the bard corrected, "You are good together. You are the missing piece in her life and she's the missing piece in yours."

"I hope she agrees with you."

Dropping down from the branch, Morrigan decided that she had heard enough. In a flash she returned to her human form, catching the attention of all those at the camp in doing so. She strolled up towards the fire, not saying a word; merely staring at Leliana.

The Warden embraced the witch and stared at her, "You came back to me safely." he said to her.

She still said nothing, gazing at her warden with hypnotic golden eyes. Slowly she leaned her head up towards his and kissed him deeply. The Warden was caught off guard by the act. It was something that had never happened before. _She had kissed him_.

Leliana never enjoyed it when Morrigan and The Warden were openly affectionate. It generally made her stomach turn, and this time was no different as she turned her head away from the couple.

"What was that for?" he asked with a confused grin on his face.

"Can I not simply be happy to see you?" The witch said slyly.

The Warden considered his reply for a moment, but figured it was best not to press the subject for the time being. "How did everything go?" he asked instead.

Morrigan chuckled slightly, "All went well. I found your Zakary in the library, as you suggested. Based by his reaction upon meeting me, he had not been informed of my abilities."

"I didn't think telling him about him about you was a good idea."

Morrigan looked up at The Warden. She cast him a new glare, one he was unfamiliar with. Almost as if the witch was trying to peer inside him, looking for something. She still stared at him as she spoke, "He is apparently as eager to meet with you as you are him. Although he refused to discuss the matter with me, it would appear that his search has met with some success."

"It's about time we had some good news." he replied, staring back at her. "Is something bothering you?"

"Why do you ask such uncanny questions?"

"You're acting very odd."

"In truth, there is a small matter that I am dealing with. This, however, is neither the place nor the time for discussing such things. But we shall speak about it soon."

"A small matter? The last time you said words like that, you ended up leaving."

"Some wounds run deep, I see." Morrigan said with a sigh."I would inform you if my desire was to leave. But I have no such urge." A grin crept across her face and she cocked her head a bit, "unless, of course, you _wish_ me to leave." she purred playfully.

"I think I'll keep you around a while longer." he returned, lightheartedly.

"A decision you may yet regret."

"I don't ever see that happening."

"You are a perplexing man, indeed."

* * *

At first light The Warden set out for the arranged meeting place. Morrigan accompanied him in bird-form and scanned for danger from above. The witch had been torn between joining The Warden or staying behind. She wasn't about to let him go off by himself to his doom, and yet she would never even contemplate leaving the child behind with Leliana. But that was the very decision she faced. She made her choice with the small consolation that The Warden could order the mabari to rip the bard to pieces should anything happen.

The Warden arrived at the location. A place where two smaller streams came together to form a larger one. There was a line of trees growing around the area that made it stand out against the surrounding shrubbery and he knew Zakary would probably be familiar with the place.

The meeting was not to take place until midday, but The Warden wanted to show up early enough to detect any waiting surprises there might have been. He still had several hours to wait. Morrigan, having found nothing, returned to the ground and resumed her human form.

"It would appear we are alone." she said, "we've not been given such a luxury in quite some time."

"And what do you propose we do about it?" The Warden said as he wrapped his arms around the witch's waist from behind.

"I would talk with you." she said as she turned around in his arms to face him.

"Of course...you want to talk." he said with more than a slight amount of disappointment in his voice.

"Your lustful urges will have to wait. 'Tis something important I have to ask."

"What?" he asked, cautiously curious.

"I wish to know what your intentions are with me."

"I'm not sure I understand. Intentions for what?"

"For you and me. For us." Morrigan said as she folded her arms and stared at him.

"Is it really the best time to be talking about this? I think we have more pressing matters at the moment."

"This may be our only opportunity for privacy for some time and for once I would like to discuss something personal without an audience. I only wish to know how you see our future?"

"I'm not sure. I don't really think about it to tell you the truth."

"Why would you not? Do you not see a future for us?"

"Of course I do. But since I found you, I make it a point to only take it day by day because we may not have tomorrow."

"You are still concerned that I might vanish again."

"Yes. I probably always will be."

"I have no means of relieving you of that fear." she said with a soft voice, "My only course is to be there next to you when you rise each day."

"That's all I need."

"I regret poking old wounds. I only wished to ascertain what your thoughts were considering our future. We can discuss it another time, if you wish."

"No, that's alright. I'll answer." The Warden replied. He thought for a while, trying his best to peer into the future, into times that could be someday, "Maybe we'll live together near the mountains, have a few children, some grandchildren too, if we're lucky. Then again we could always go back to Highever..."

"Fergus would no doubt disapprove of our association." Morrigan said. "Your family's influence rivals that of the king's, therefore, I doubt we would go unnoticed. And considering what happened at Denerim, I'm inclined to think I've had my fill of castle life."

"We wouldn't have to stay at the castle. We could build a cottage somewhere else on my family's land and live there."

"So you intend to make a wife of me?"

"It would appear so. Does that bother you?"

"I must admit when you had referred to us as a family I was uneasy with the term. Twas never something I would think myself associated with." the witch explained, staring at him. "Never would I have imagined being attached to any man. I never gave such things a single thought There was also a time, however, when I swore I would never be a mother."

"You're a very good mother." The Warden added.

"Seth was the best gift you could have ever given me. And that only adds to my dilemma."

"How?"

"I do not know if I am ready to be anyone's wife or if I even desire to be such a thing. I have no wish to be kept barefoot and pregnant and locked away inside some quaint little cottage." the witch said with conviction in her voice.

"Who said that's what would happen?"

"Is there a need for it to be said?"

"I think we'll choose for ourselves. Whatever that may end up being."

"I suppose that shall suffice for now." Morrigan finished with a soft sigh. The witch wrapped her arms around The Warden, pulling herself close to him. "Now, about those lustful urges..."

* * *

Morrigan began chirping loudly from her perch in the tree. Someone was coming. The apprentice was on time. The midday sun was beaming down through the trees, creating streaks of light for the dust and other small bits to bask in. As Zakary came into view, the witch kept watch, keenly scanning for trouble.

"Zakary, it's good to see you again." The Warden said as the two greeted.

"I've been anxious to talk to you." the apprentice said as he pulled a large scroll from underneath his tunic, "I think I found what you were looking for. In the old archives I came across this scroll which describes in great detail The Second Sin, when the magisters dared to walk the Golden City and were thus tainted; becoming the first darkspawn."

"How does that help me?"

"The scroll goes into great detail about the rise of Dumat. It even tells about the ritual performed to release Dumat from his earthen tomb. The Maker himself had imprisoned the king of the Old Gods there so it took very powerful magic to release him."

"What kind of magic?"

"The darkest kind of blood magic." Zakary continued, "Waking the god required feeding it a soul. A victim's soul would be taken and held in a vessel, this in turn, along with the proper spells, attracted the god, whose essence would occupy another vessel. Both beings would then be transferred to a third vessel whereby the victim's soul would be devoured by the essence of Dumat, awakening him and transforming him into the first archdemon."

"And you think this somehow applies to Flemeth?" The Warden asked.

"Yes. The vessels used to house the souls were specifically made just for this task. They're called the orbs of Arastani. They represent the worst kind of magic. I'm sure that she can somehow use these to obtain the child's soul."

"If these orbs can give Flemeth the power she's after, then we need find them before she does."

"My thoughts exactly," the apprentice added, "but it won't be easy. The orbs are said to be stored in a temple high in the Frostback Mountains. The only way there is a remote path from the Deep Roads. Calling the task dangerous would be a monumental understatement."

"I don't see where I have much of a choice. Do you know where to path is in the deep roads?"

"There were no maps, I'm afraid. You might be able to find out more at the Shaperate in Orzammar." the mage said, "Unfortunately, I must hurry back to the tower. If I'm gone much longer someone might notice."

"Thank you for your help, Zakary." The Warden said as the two men parted company.

He finally had the key he'd been looking for. Locating these orbs would be no small task and there was no way of knowing whether or not Flemeth was pursuing them as well. If she was after the orbs then the old hag probably had a sizable head start on getting to them. Fortunately The Warden had friends in high places in Orzammar.


	9. Chapter 9

**Part IX**

Things were not going well at all, Alistair thought to himself. He had managed to send most of the templars off on a wild goose chase, but Knight-Commander Durant and his men would most likely return early tomorrow. And to make matters worse he hadn't seen any sign of The Warden. And Maker only knew what was happening back in Denerim in his absence. Arl Eamon was a capable regent, but the situation was dangerously close to spinning out of control. The king didn't have the luxury of time. He needed to find The Warden and Morrigan as quickly as possible. Ferelden's stability depended on it.

The king was discussing a plan with Captain Derik to begin actively search for the fugitives in the surrounding area. Fortunately Lake Calenhad split the size of the search area in half. Alistair reasoned they would start in the southeast and work their way north. The lands around the tower were sparsely forested, greatly reducing the number of areas that The Warden could hide.

Alistair was confident he could find the fugitives in short order. He had been waiting for The Warden to come to him, but time was running out in Denerim. He would have to start applying some pressure to flush out his game.

"We'll start here, at the docks, and sweep southward, towards the river." The king said as he pointed out the locations on a map that lie on a table in front of him, " When we reach the River Dane we'll turn east, then north."

"Yes, Your Majesty." The Captain replied, "And if we find the fugitives?"

"Detain them. Nothing more. We don't need this getting any more out of hand that it already has."

"Yes, Your Majesty. When will we be leaving?"

"As soon as possible. I want to reach the river by nightfall. There's a great deal of open land and spotting a firelight will be much easier after dark."

"I'll have the men ready to leave in ten minutes." The captain said as he bowed, then left to attend to his duties.

It was just after midday when Alistair and his men left from the tower. They headed out from the docks and The Spoiled Princess pub, each man spread fifty yards from the next. Slowly they proceeded along the edge of Lake Calenhad on their way to the River Dane some miles to the south.

They had not been searching for more than a few hours when one of the cavalrymen shouted out, "Over here! There's someone hiding in the bush!"

Alistair and the captain rode to the sight of the disturbance, arriving to find the soldier off his stead, weapon drawn, and heading for a rather suspicious bush.

"Hold your ground, man." The king ordered as he dismounted. "You, in the bush," he yelled, "we know you're in there. Come on out. We don't want any trouble."

The shrub shook for a few seconds, but otherwise said nothing.

"This is your last chance." Alistair warned as a motioned for the other men to surround the bush.

"Alright, alright. I give up." A voice from the bush said. And after a bit of rustling, and grunting the bush spat out a young, brown-haired mage.

"And just who might you be?" The king asked.

"Oh me? I'm nobody. I'm just an apprentice from Circle Tower." the young mage replied.

"Do you have a name, apprentice?"

"Yes sir, It's Zakary."

"What are you doing all the way out here, Zakary?"

"I was just gathering herbs for my studies."

"All the way out here?" Alistair asked the apprentice, doubt in his voice.

"Students have been gathering from around the tower for centuries, there aren't any good specimens left. I had to come way out here to get the best ones. I haven't been doing anything wrong. Really."

"Then you wouldn't mind if I took a look at some of your 'specimens'?"

"Uhm...take a look...uh..."

"What's the matter, Zakary? You seem nervous about something." Alistair said as he eyed the young apprentice.

"It's just that...well...uhm..."

"Go on..." the king urged.

"Well, it's just that I haven't been able to find any today."

"That is a shame. You do know what that means, don't you? I have to turn you in to the templars as a maleficarum practicing magic beyond the tower walls."

"Wait...what?" the apprentice said, stunned. "No no no. I wasn't practicing any magic."

"Still, rules are rules." Alistair said, calmly.

"You can't be serious."

"I'm deadly serious I'm afraid."

"Well...uh... Look, I wasn't really out here picking herbs."

"Alright. What _were _you doing out here, then?"

"I was meeting someone." Zakary answered as he started to sweat profusely.

"Oh? And who might that be?" The king inquired.

The young mage stood silent, unable to make eye contact Alistair.

"Zakary?" Alistair questioned again, "Who were you meeting?"

Still Zakary said nothing.

"Captain Derik. Take this man into custody and make arrangements to hand him over to the templars upon our return to Circle Tower."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Derik dutifully answered.

"Wait!" Zakary yelled, "Alright, I'll tell you."

"Well? Who was it?"

"The Grey Warden." Zakary answered meekly, "I was meeting The Grey Warden."

"When? Where did you meet with him?" Alistiar demanded.

"A few hours ago...back that way." the apprentice said pointing towards the south. "We met where the two streams come together."

"Why were you meeting him? What was this meeting about?"

"I was helping him with a...problem." Zakary said being as evasive as possible.

"I know about Flemeth, already. I assume that's what you meant by 'problem'."

"Yes, sir. That would be it."

"You will address him as 'Your Majesty'!", Captain Derik commanded.

"That will be all, Captain." Alistair said in response.

"Oh, Maker." the apprentice uttered as he swallowed hard. "You're King Alistair. Oh, that's not good. I am in huge trouble."

"No, nobody's in trouble." the king reassured, "just tell me what I need to know and everything will be fine."

"But you'll try to stop him."

"I have to find him before The Templars do. Every templar in Ferelden has been alerted by now and if they find The Warden before I do, they'll kill him. Do you understand that?"

"I think The Warden can handle himself. He killed the archdemon, after all."

"Yes, Zakary. The Warden will certainly kill a great many templars. That just makes matters worse."

"How so?"

"The Templars have a lot of influence, as does The Warden. Conflict between the two will cause people to choose sides and create factions. That could cause a rift deep enough to plunge all of Ferelden into."

"I think I understand." The mage said.

"Then tell me what I need to know. Where is The Warden?" Alistair asked as earnestly as he could.

"Most likely he's headed towards Orzamar; to The Shaperate."

"The Shaperate? Why is he going there?"

"He thinks he knows what Flemeth is after, the Orbs of Arastani." the apprentice informed the king, "She needs them to draw the power from the child. The only way to get the orbs is through the Deep Roads, but the exact path has long since been lost. So he needs to visit the Shapers."

"Then it looks as though our path leads to Orzamar." Alistair said as he mounted his steed, "You are free to go, Zakary."

"Your Majesty, one more thing..." the apprentice said as the king was about to leave, "I know you want to stop him. But if Flemeth is allowed to succeed, there won't be a Ferelden left to fight about. Stop the templars if you must but allow him to complete his task."

Alistair kicked his heels into his beast and spurred it to motion, his men following suit. The Warden had several hours head start but was on foot. The king and his men should be able to locate and overtake the fugitives in a matter of hours. What the young apprentice had said, if true, changed things considerably. It was more urgent than ever that Alistair find The Warden.

* * *

After the meeting with Zakary, The Warden and Morrigan were headed back towards camp where Leliana, Leo, and the child remain. Now that they knew about the Orbs of Arastani they at last had a direction to go. The group would break camp and begin to long trek to Orzammar, the underground dwarven kingdom, immediately.

Suddenly, they found themselves in a race against a powerful foe. And there was no way of telling how far Flemeth was ahead of them. As a consequence, the group could no longer afford the secrecy the back woods allowed. They would now have to risk being spotted on the main roads.

The witch said nothing on the return trip to the encampment. As the two walked, she looked as though she was deep in thought. As if some faint memory had somehow twitched and was trying to surface.

"What are you thinking about?" The Warden asked, noticing her wrestling with something.

"These Orbs of Arastani are known to me. I have heard Flemeth mention them long ago when I was but a child." the witch finally said.

"Really? Do you remember anything?"

"Not much, unfortunately. She mentioned that they were special and powerful. And in the right hands could do far more than was their intent."

"And you have no clue what that might be."

"That particular memory eludes me for the time being."

"Hopefully it'll come back to you. We need to find out all we can about these orbs." He said as they walked, "And you're still limping, I see. Is your foot still bothering you?"

"My foot is quite alright. Your concern is not necessary." she said, trying her best to act the part.

"It's just you and me out here. There's no one to impress."

"That being reason enough for me to dissolve into some helpless damsel in your eyes? If you think I shall come running to you needing to be consoled over the slightest mishaps, you are sorely mistaken."

"I know that. Still, there times when even you need help. I just wish you'd let your guard down long enough to ask me for it."

"I fail to see where you could possibly remedy the situation." Morrigan said in her usual defiant tone, "Do you propose to carry me all the way back to camp?"

"Why not?"

"In case your eyes have failed you, I am no longer some small sparrow. It will be some time before I can assume such forms again, and I've no desire to carried about like a purse."

"Here." he said as he knelt down in front of the witch, his back facing her "Just climb on."

"Dwemer! Have you not heard a single word I've said?"

"I'll let you down when we get close to camp, that way it'll be our little secret." he coaxed.

"Will you not take no for an answer?"

"No." He said, smiling.

Morrigan sighed and groaned simultaneously, "Very well, as you insist." she said with a heavy breath, and climbed on his back, "One would think you have more to attend to than simply pampering me."

"Tell me that you hate it and I'll stop." The Warden said as he stood, lifting her with him, "Just say it. That's all. And I'll stop."

Morrigan said nothing was the pair made their way back to the camp.

Even though the Sun danced near the horizon and the daylight ebbed, the group broke camp and started the long journey to Orzammar. They would head northeast, around Circle Tower, then head west to the Frostback Mountains. It was a journey that would take a least several days.

The two consolations that The Warden did have were the facts that at least Alistair had no clue where he would be, and there was no templar presence in the dwarven kingdom at all. That would speed up his search considerably. He would be able to work out in the open.

The party had to travel fast and getting Orzammar was not going to be easy. Morrigan's foot could slow them down, however, she reluctantly agreed to allow The Warden to carry her part of the time until her injury had healed. The witch was characteristically resistant to the idea at first, but practicality eventually won out and she relented. She would spend as much time in bird form as she could, as she would be far easier to carry, and when not resting, would keep watch from above.

That night, not long after the group had departed for the dwarven kingdom, Morrigan, from her spot overhead, spotted something very unnerving in the distance, and it was headed right towards them. She folded her tiny wings and dove to the ground, landing directly in front of The Warden, causing him to stop in his tracks. In a bright flash the witch returned to her human form to relay to distressing news.

"Alistair is coming." Morrigan said with urgency in her voice, "We had best locate some cover."

"Are you sure it was him?" The Warden asked.

"Twas him. I am certain. He is accompanied by eleven other men. All are on horseback."

"It's Alistair" Leliana said, "we can try talking to him."

"I do not think he would be in the most accommodating mood." Morrigan replied.

"Why? What did you do to him?" The Warden inquired almost afraid to find out.

"I kept my word. I did not touch him." the witch answered, being elusive as usual.

"I don't even want to know right now. Take Seth and we'll hide in the brush."

"Shouldn't we at least try talking to him?" the bard asked.

"To what end?" Morrigan quipped, "Have you already forgotten where it was you found me?"

"I don't pretend to understand what's going on. But Alistair is our friend. We can trust him."

"Placing trust in Alistair is the very root of our current dilemma. I shall not be foolish enough to do so again."

"I'm sure he means well," The Warden interjected, "But even so, I can't risk him trying to stop us. He doesn't understand that Flemeth is the real threat."

"So we hide?" Leliana asked.

"We hide."

The group hid inside a large cluster of brush and small trees. The undergrowth was thick and hard to navigate. It took several minutes of crawling before a large enough open area was reached.

From beneath the cover of the bushes, they heard the steady rhythm of approaching horses. The hearts of the hidden fugitives thumping rapidly as the cavalrymen drew ever closer. Agonizing minutes passed, but still the group waited, huddled inside their small haven.

One of the men stopped mere yards from them, deciding that something required further investigation. He directed his animal closer to the brush, intensely peering into the moonlit bushes as he did so. When the soldier was satisfied that nothing was amiss with the bush, he turned his horse and began to head away from the hidden party.

Unfortunately, infants fail to grasp the need for silence when trying to remain undetected. Seth, annoyed that his mother was not focusing her attention on him even though she was holding him, voiced his displeasure. It was not a loud outburst, more like a grunt. But it was enough to attract the attention of the cavalryman who now made his way back to the bush and dismounted his steed.

"Who's in there?" he said as he drew his blade and crept closer.

Morrigan looked at The Warden, her eyes wide.

The soldier poked his blade around the bush trying to stir it's contents into exposing themselves. The weapon came within inches of The Warden's brow, hanging there in front of his face until it was slowly withdrawn only to be thrust someplace else.

"I know you're in there." the cavalryman shouted, "So come out and show yourselves."

Another of the soldiers came riding up, attracted by the commotion.

"What's going on?" he said to the first soldier, "Find something?"

"I thought I heard something. It was probably just an animal." the first soldier replied.

"Or your ears playing tricks on you in your old age." The second soldier retorted, "Captain Derik wants us to start sweeping further south. The king thinks that The Warden may have taken the southern route around the lake. The campsite we found was fresh, so that means that they couldn't have gotten too far. Especially not at night."

"I don't see what all the rush is for. We're never gonna find him." the first soldier said as he mounted his horse, "Besides what The Warden wants with a maleficar is his business. After what he's done for Ferelden I'd say he's earned it."

"It doesn't bother you at all that he's involved with a maleficarum?" the second soldier asked in disbelief.

"Have you seen her? I watched her roaming around the castle at Denerim. I'd be willing to give up a few vows myself for that."

A smile crept across the witch's face upon hearing the flattery. Leliana felt her stomach turn.

When the two soldiers had, at last, ridden off to the south, the group emerged from the confines of the brush and out into the open.

"Well, that was a pleasant experience." Morrigan said as she brushed the leaves from her clothes.

"A little too close for comfort." the bard agreed. "So what do we do now?"

"We head for Orzammar and pray that we're not too late." The Warden with steel in his voice.

* * *

Alistair and his men had spent the entire night searching the southeast area near Circle Tower and had come up empty. Knight-Commander Durant would no doubt soon be returning, so it was unwise to head back to the tower at this point. The king ordered his men to keep moving on to Orzammar in the hopes that they would somehow stumble upon The Warden before they got there.

There was no need for The Warden to go anywhere near Circle Tower, Alistair knew. The most likely course of action the fugitives would take would be going around Lake Calenhad, since they would be immediately spotted if they tried to purchase passage on one of the ferries. That meant either going north or south. Going north would take his prey too close to the tower the king reasoned leaving the southern route as the most likely one.

The southern route made sense for other reasons as well. The Warden had friends in Redcliffe Village as well as the castle there. Bann Teagan Guerrin, Arl Eamon's younger brother, was also in the area. Teagan and The Warden knew each other well and it would not be impossible to think the bann would render aid to the fugitives.

Still, Orzammar was The Warden's final destination. That's where Alistair would focus his attention. If he couldn't find The Warden soon, he would have to go back to Denerim empty handed. He couldn't abandon his duties as king much longer, as Denerim was most likely burning to the ground while the king was away.

As the day dragged on the men continued the search for their quarry. They had been going without rest and were growing weary of the chase. The men implored Captain Derik to speak with the king about taking a break.

"Your Majesty." Derik said as he rode up beside Alistair, "The men are tired and need rest, surely we can afford them a small break."

"Very well." Alistair said as he stared off in the distance, his mind elsewhere.

"Is something wrong, Your Majesty?" the captain asked in a concerned tone.

"No, captain. I was just distracted, that's all."

Derik gestured commands to one of the men who then sped off on his steed to convey those orders to the others.

"We'll rest here for a bit, then start searching closer to the shore."

"These men need sleep, Your Majesty, are we really in such a rush after a man, woman, and child who are on foot?"

"This is no ordinary man, Captain."

"Still, why go through all this trouble? If your goal is to bring The Warden back to Denerim, why not just let The Templars find him."

"Because if The Templars get involved there will be bloodshed and I am trying to avoid that. The sooner we can find them, the better."

"The Templars only want the witch. Once they realize he's the real warden they'll leave him alone." Derik inquired.

"Have you ever known The Chantry to be soft on anyone who associates with maleficars?" the king responded, "That's exactly why I need to find him first. So all this can be settled diplomatically, without anyone dying."

"But, Your Majesty, she _is_ a maleficar."

"I know Morrigan. And even after all the vile things she's said and done to me I still don't want her dead. The Warden sees something special in her that I could never understand. I always thought she was just cruel an manipulative. But after seeing her with the child, the way she holds him and takes care of him, I'm starting to see some of the things in her that he sees."

"You're putting yourself at great political risk for a friend, Your Majesty." The captain noted.

"That friend saved my life more times than I can count. He saved all our lives. If he hadn't slain the archdemon we'd be neck deep in darkspawn. We owe him our help. I owe him."

"Yes, Your Majesty." The captain said in agreement, "How long will we be stopping?"

"We'll stop for a few hours. Tell the men to grab some sleep."

Captain Derik nodded then rode off on his horse to inform the men. Alistair sat on the back of his beast and stared out across Lake Calenhad to the northwest. The Chantry would be difficult to deal with and they wouldn't give up Morrigan without a fight. Once they determined The Warden's location, The Chantry would send wave after wave of templars at both The Warden and Morrigan until they had been eliminated. Alistair knew he had to somehow act as a buffer between the two factions and settle things. Captain Derik was right about one thing: Alistair was taking a big risk in even trying to find The Warden. Usurping The Chantry's authority generally met with disastrous results for the party unwise enough to try such a thing. The king prayed his sword would stay sheathed as well.


	10. Chapter 10

**Part X**

It had taken the party almost two days to reach the main road that lead to Orzammar. The group had managed to evade both the king and The Templars for the time being as they made their way northward, around Circle Tower, and then headed west.

The main road led all the way up to the gates of the dwarven kingdom. It would make the going much easier and faster. There was always the risk of being spotted out in the open, however. Merchants, pilgrims and ordinary travelers made their way along the road and contact with them would have to be avoided or at least kept to a minimum.

Then there was also the small matter of bandits and highwaymen. While such things, in reality, posed little threat to The Warden and his companions; leaving a trail of bodies to follow would hardly be in the group's best interest. It would be best to keep out of any skirmishes.

Morrigan's foot was nearly healed, although she still permitted The Warden to carry her piggy-back for long stretches at a time. He was accustomed to carrying packs that weighed close to a hundred pounds across his back when he traveled, so the witch bore him little burden. She, on the other hand, was having mixed feelings about the whole arrangement.

Most of the trip she made in silence as she rode on his back. While secretly she thoroughly enjoyed The Warden's attention, she never spoke it. The witch's strong sense of self-reliance and pride would not allow her to appear soft or weak. Morrigan fought with herself over the matter, longing for his attention, yet feeling like a weak and frail girl for for doing so. Even still, after long hours of bouncing on his back, she was forced to speak.

"I think it best we rest a moment." Morrigan said.

"We just stopped a few hours ago. We need to keep moving." The Warden returned.

"Seth needs looking after and your back will want a reprieve from my girth."

"What girth? My back is just fine. That and Seth's asleep." He said as a pointed towards the infant on Leliana's back, "I think he likes the way Leliana walks."

"Perhaps then, Leliana might prefer to stop for a bit."

"I don't need to rest. I'm fine." the bard replied.

"See?" The Warden said, his head turned around to look at his witch, "We should be good for a couple more hours at least."

"I see." said Morrigan as she leaned into The Warden's ear and whispered, "Unless it is your desire to have piss running down your back I suggest you stop immediately."

"Got it. Stopping." He said as he came to an abrupt halt. "We're taking a quick break." he conveyed to the bard as the witch hopped down from her perch.

Leliana responded with a look of confusion. However, she soon realized what was going on as she saw Morrigan head towards a thick clump of bushes and disappear out of sight.

A low growl began to stir from the mabari as he sniffed along the opposite side of the road. Something had definitely gotten the dog's attention and he furiously examined the ground with his keen canine nose. Suddenly, Leo broke into a loud fit of barking, which he seemed to focus on a small shrub that lie just off the dirt path.

"What is it, boy?" The Warden asked the beast as he came over to investigate.

From behind the bush, a man with short dark hair and covered in well-made ringmail armor stood up. About his waist, the man had an ornate belt that was crusted in jewels and a buckle made of gold. His blade was sheathed in an equally ornate scabbard that hung down against his left leg.

"Hold your blade!" The man said while he raised his empty hands to the sky, "I'm just an honest traveler, like you."

"Who are you and why were you hiding?" The Warden inquired as he drew his blade.

"My name is Babbus. I am no threat to you. I thought you might have been bandits so I hid behind the bush."

"Babbus?" Leliana said, "I know that name."

"You know this man?" The Warden asked the bard.

"No. I've never seen him before. But I have heard the name." she answered.

"Do you remember where?"

"Babbus was supposedly the prince of thieves. Almost like nobility among bandits." Leliana explained, "When I was a Lothering I would hear stories from the refugees that fled Ostagar about being robbed as they escaped the blight. They claimed a group of men led by a man named Babbus attacked them on the main road and robbed them of almost everything."

"I see my reputation has proceeded me once again." Babbus said with a smile.

"You'll find no prey here." The Warden said as he pointed the tip of his blade at the thief, "Best be on your way, before I change my mind."

"Oh, I'm afraid I cannot do that. You see, we've been waiting by this road all day and if I don't come back with at least something my men will be very disappointed."

"_We?_" The Warden said, realizing.

Babbus smiled and nodded in agreement. "We," he repeated.

At that time, five other men came forth from various hiding places about the road, all of them with weapons at the ready.

"Get behind me." The Warden said to the bard as he drew both of his blades.

"Six against one?" Babbus said with a wicked grin, "This is going to be too easy. After I liberate you from your wretched existence, I will be taking the child and both your lovely escorts with me."

Two of the bandits advanced on The Warden on either side. The bandit to the left readied his blade and prepared to lunge. The bandit to the right took a more guarded approach, holding his shield before him as he slowly crept closer to his target. The Warden stood between them, having already analyzed the situation and readied tactics to dispense with the attackers.

The bandit to the left began his lunge, his blade thrust out before him, taking aim directly at The Warden's neck. The Warden took one small step back, allowing the thief to run by him and directly into The Warden's sharp blade.

The Warden pushed the attacker in the back as he drew his sword against the bandit's belly, cutting it even deeper. The stunned assailant's momentum carried his stumbling body into that of the bandit on the right, the attacker's outstretched sword plunging into his companions neck. Both of the men collapsed to the ground, bleeding and lifeless.

"Impressive. So you are familiar with your weapon." Babbus said as he gestured to the remaining bandits, "This may be some fun after all."

A deafening roar erupted from behind the bush that Morrigan had gone to. The roar was accompanied by a man's scream of terror. Another bandit, who had been unseen until then, came flying from behind the bush and sailed a dozen yards in the air before landing on the hard ground. He stumbled to his feet and began running down the road as fast as his legs would carry him. The others froze at the sight of their companion and a wide grin crept across The Warden's face.

"Don't be bashful, my pet, come out and say hello to the nice men." The Warden said aloud to the bush.

Another loud roar erupted from behind the bush and a large brown bear came into view, fur standing on end and fangs bared.

"This was not the kind of fun I had in mind." Babbus said as he and his remaining men turned and ran, fleeing into the underbrush surrounding the road.

"Do we go after them?" Leliana asked.

"We'd never catch them. It's just best of we get as far from here as we can." The Warden answered.

The large bear strolled up to The Warden, getting her snoot right against his face. She then huffed, blowing out a slimy mess that splattered his cheek.

"Alright! I know you hate to be called that." The Warden said, wiping his face, "You will never hear me call you 'my pet' ever again."

The bear flashed in bright colors as the witch resumed her form. "A wise decision." she said as she walked by him to inspect Seth, "I don't quite know how to tell you this, my sweet, but you have something on your face."

The Warden stood there with a dumbfouned look.

"Do my ears deceive me?" Leliana said, astounded and giggling, "Morrigan just made a joke! And it was funny, too!"

* * *

It was becoming quite apparent to Alistair that the fugitives had not take the southern route, after all. He and his men and been riding around Lake Calenhad for the past two days and hadn't seen any sign of The Warden, Morrigan, and the child. They had stopped in every village along the way and talked to dozens of villagers, none of whom had seen or heard anything of value. He decided it was best to press on to Orzammar in hopes of getting there before The Warden.

They had just passed Redcliffe Village and were nearing Gherlen's Pass, and the heart of the Frostback Mountains. Already the slopes had begun to get steeper. From here on the way would be slick and treacherous. But still, with luck, the king reckoned they would be at Orzammar in a day or so. That should still put them there well ahead of The Warden. If The Warden managed to somehow get past Alistair and make his way to Orzammar, things would get significantly harder.

Part of what made tracking The Warden so hard was his tremendous influence about Ferelden. He hadn't just stopped the blight; that in and of itself being no small task. He had also aided countless others on his quest to gather the armies of Ferelden. To say The Warden was revered as a national hero would be a dramatic understatement. Some even began to believe he was sent by Andraste, herself.

Orzammar was no exception. The Warden was practically viewed as a paragon by the dwarves that lived there. He had been the one to break the political stalemate and put a new king on the throne. He had also found the lost Anvil of the Void as well it it's creator, the dwarven paragon, Caridin. It would be beyond impossible to expect any help from the locals.

Wrapping his blanket around him to protect from the icy mountain wind, the king pondered where Flemeth fit into all of it. He wondered what the old witch's game was and if Denerim being thrown into chaos was part of her scheme. It seemed all to coincidental for his liking. Whatever quest The Warden was on was most likely fabricated to lure him away from Denerim. Ferelden was still very much recovering from the blight, and the longer The Warden was away, the more restless the people became.

* * *

Ser Guthrie could hardly believe his luck. His ticket out of the backwater mudhole he was sent to had just arrived. The fugitive maleficar and her false warden had been spotted near his location in Vaifyr and once he apprehended or dispatched the troublemakers he was certain to finally have his desire to be relocated and perhaps even promoted.

A few hours previous, a man burst into the chantry, saying something about a group of lunatics that were over at the local pub, The Black Daisy. The man said they group talked of witches, beasts, and a demon who could wield a sword like no mere mortal.

In remote areas it was not uncommon for local templars to serve as part-time constables, so Ser Guthrie made his way to the pub to see what all the commotion was about. His initial thought being the group were local workers who had just received their pay and had spent a bit too much of it at the pub. When he arrived at the pub, however, what he found was a man with dark hair, well-made ringmail, and an ornate belt. The man was joined by several other similarly dressed men. And the story the man told turned out to be worth hearing.

The man called himself Babbus. Guthrie had never heard of him before, much to Babbus' surprise. Apparently this was a man of some fame. He told the templar about an encounter he had earlier in the day with a group of travelers. How, he and his men were merely minding their own business, when they were suddenly accosted by a man, two woman, one carrying a child, and a ferocious mabari.

Babbus called the man a demon that took down two of his men with but a glance. He said one of the females was a witch with the ability to transform into horrible creatures, nearly devouring another man.

The templar had no clues as to the identity of the second woman. But he was certain that it was the fugitive maleficar. He informed the four other templars stationed with him in Vaifyr that they would all be heading out in pursuit of the witch. Guthrie, being the senior most templar, would be taking the lead and taking the credit.

* * *

Morrigan stood in the small, cramped kitchen tending to the supper that was cooking over the fire in the hearth. With so many mouths to feed it was a wonder she was ever away from the kitchen at all. And with another child on the way, it was only going to get that much harder.

She was constantly having to puff hair out her face that kept falling as she prepared the various ingredients for each dish. Her back hurt and her feet were sore. In her years with The Warden she had gained a considerable amount of weight, but he professed to still be attracted to her. She was the absolute model of domestic happiness.

"Mum, have you mended my shirt yet?" Her eldest asked as he barged into the kitchen.

"No, Seth, I haven't had the.."

"But you promised! I need that shirt." The teenage boy whined.

Suddenly a scream arose from somewhere in the back of the cottage. A few seconds later a small, blonde-haired, young girl ran into the kitchen and grabbed the witch about the waist, burying her head and sobbing into Morrigan's apron.

Morrigan guided the child's chin until their eyes met, "What did he do to you?" She asked the girl in a soft cool voice.

"He...*sniff*..he...pulled..*sniff*...he pulled my hair!" The girl responded through a deluge of tears.

"Lucas! You shall stop harassing your sister this instant!" Morrigan shouted towards the back of the cottage.

"I did not pull her hair! She's lying!" Yelled a young boy's voice in return.

Just then the front door swung open and in strolled the man of the house. He was home after another long adventure away saving the day from whatever it was that threatened. He was gone for months at a time while Morrigan sat home tending to the house and the children. To make matters worse, she was often left to care for his miserable mabari whom he seldom drug along with him on his grand journeys to the most exotic and remote locations.

And as always by his side were the two dimwitted tag-alongs, Alistair and Leliana. She, who was so brazen in her want of The Warden. And he, with barely enough intelligence to remember to keep breathing. Both of them hung on his every word and would follow him to the ends of the Earth.

"We...uh..come bring stuff." The moronic king uttered, slobbering all over himself as he spoke, "You can cook to make food."

"Oh, Morrigan. Hi." the bard said through a false grin. Leliana ,as usual, was dressed as scantily as possible as she hung all over The Warden. She turned to The Warden whispering aloud, "You are still with her? You told me I was the only one for you, baby."

"I just came to get my things." The Warden said.

"Whatever do you mean?" the witch inquired, "You've only just arrived. Is it your aim to be apart from me so rapidly?"

"I won't be coming back this time. You said it yourself: Leliana's a better fit for me."

"No. I will not let you do this to me." The witch uttered through clenched teeth, rage seething within her, "I have given you my life and life to your children. I have been faithful to you and our union. _You will not do this to me_."

"Sorry, Morrigan. But Leliana doesn't constantly argue with me and she has no problems showing me how she feels about me, even in public." The Warden said as he put his arm around the bard's tiny waist.

"I love you my big, strong, man." Leliana said as she placed a peck on The Warden's lips.

"_You will not do this to me!" _Morrigan said as she sat up in her bedroll with a start.

"What?" A voice from next to her mumbled followed by the sound of faint snoring.

The witch looked around the small tent, still very much shaken by her nightmare. Her eyes found her infant son asleep next her on a pile of blankets. On her other side, The Warden was in his usual spot. Everything was as it should be.

She spent a while just looking at the two. She studied The Warden as he slept beside her, and she stared at Seth as he lay bundled in his makeshift bed. All the while the chill of her dream haunting her. She came to the realization that if left unchecked, the very course she pursued could make her nightmare a reality. And that was completely unacceptable, the witch declared to herself. At the first opportunity, she would deal with the bard.

* * *

The gates to Orzammar lay just a few miles up the mountain road. The Warden and his group were making the last of their long trek as the Sun crept low to the horizon. The temperature was dropping rapidly as the day waned and the party would need to reach the city gates in a hurry to prevent freezing to death in the icy mountain air.

Morrigan, who was again moving under her own power, carried the baby against her chest, bundled up in several thick, warm layers of blankets. The witch wished she had to ability to change into a horse, or other steed, so that she could safely carry The Warden and Seth to their destination. But she always considered such beasts beneath her because of their servile nature and never bothered to learn their forms.

Most affected by the cold was Leliana, who hated coming to the mountains; thinking they should only be viewed from afar. The bard shivered as she walked and her teeth chattered. She had spent most of he life temperate climates and had little resistance to the freezing mountain winds. The only thing keeping her moving forward was the thought of arriving at the dwarven city and standing next to a roaring flame until she melted.

The Warden looked back to see a group of men mounted on horses riding towards them. Horses were rare in Ferelden and only nobility or royalty could afford such creatures. The Warden recognized the identity of his pursuers and quickly scanned for an escape route.

"Quick! Up the side of the hill!" He shouted to the others.

"Why? What is it?" Leliana asked as she looked down the road to see the reason.

"Alistair is coming. Get up the side of the hill, beyond those rocks." The Warden directed.

Witch, bard, and mabari hastened up a rocky trail that led to a patch of several large boulders and ducked behind them.

The Warden held his spot in the road, wanting to insure the others safe retreat.

"Dwemer!" Morrigan shouted, "Is it your intent to get yourself killed?"

"I'm through running from Alistair. I'm going to end this. One way or another." The Warden responded.

"He has gone completely mad!" The witch exclaimed to the bard standing beside her.

"Get down and stay out of sight!" The Warden yelled back.

The steady gallop of twelve horses filled the ears of the fugitives like rolling thunder as the sound echoed off the cliffs and mountainous slopes. The Warden stood his ground in the center of the road, weapons sheathed. Before long, they were upon him. Morrigan watched in terror from her hiding spot as one man dismounted and approached The Warden. It was Alistair.

"You are one hell of a hard man to find." Alistair said.

"You're Majesty." The Warden said with a cold stare.

"So it's like that is it?"

"It's like that."

"It doesn't have to be. This can be settled reasonably." The king said.

"How? By going back to Denerim with you? I can't do that, Alistair, and you know it." The Warden rebuked.

"Denerim is on the verge of collapse. And if it goes, how long can it be before the rest of Ferelden follows?"

"I can't help that now. There's something I need to take care of first." The Warden replied, "Demerim will have to take care of itself for a while."

"You are coming back with me, even if I have to drag you." The king said as he drew his blade.

"You'll have to kill me first." The Warden responded as he drew both his swords.

Captain Derik and the rest of the cavalrymen readied their weapons as well, preparing to join the anticipated fray.

"Hold your ground." Alistair said to them, "This is between us."

The witch found the urge to assist her warden almost impossible to resist. Only the infant that lay bundled in her arms prevented her. She knew that Alistair, while a seasoned and capable warrior, was no match for The Warden, whose skill with a blade was unmatched. However, she feared how Alistair's men would react should their king reach an untimely end at The Warden's hands.

The king lunged at his friend and the fight was on. The clang of blades reverberated throughout the slopes as the two men battled. Neither giving way to the other. The king was a master of shield techniques and was able to barely block the many ferocious blows The Warden landed. Alistair stayed mostly on the defensive, blocking and deflecting as best he could. Every once in a while he would take the initiative, attempting a few swipes before The Warden cut him off once again.

The two men hung their mouths open as they took large gasps of breath in the thin mountain air; beads of sweat dotting both of their foreheads as they circled around each other. The wintery air nothing more than a distant memory.

"Don't make me kill you, Alistair." The Warden said as he panted.

"Funny," the king replied between heavy breaths, "I was about to say the same thing to you."

Again the two combatants engaged each other with Alistair charging The Warden in a full-on assault. In a matter of seconds, though, The Warden had turned the king's charge against him, stunning Alistair and sending him down on his backside, losing his shield in the process.

Alistair watched his the shiny round shield as it slid away from him and down the slope of the mountain. His legs were starting to get weak and wobbly from fatigue as he tried to stand. The king wrapped both his hands around the handle of his weapon and readied himself for one last attack.

The Warden deftly sidestepped Alistair when the king made his lunge. And as The Warden spun by, he hooked his blade inside Alistair's and with a quick twist, relieved the king of his sword. The weapon fell to the ground while the king fell to his knees.

"Go ahead. What are you waiting for?" The king said, "Finish it."

"I don't want to kill you, Alistair." The Warden responded.

"Well, you have to. If you want to stop me, you'll have to kill me."

"Why did you have to follow me? Why couldn't you just let me handle this?"

"You selfish son of a bitch." Alistair said, "Everything has to be about you, doesn't it? _You_ had to find her. _You_ had to bring her to Denerim. I put my neck out for you time and again. But it's never enough, is it?"

"It was never like that. I did what I had to do."

"Oh, really? Telling me to look after Morrigan and your son, and then attacking me after I've done my best to keep them safe? How am I supposed to see it, then?"

"You arrested her! Why didn't you just get her out of the palace sooner?"

"I was trying to protect her! I was trying to protect both of them!" the king stated with force.

There was a long silence as both men stood there staring at each other. The air was calm and quiet save for the sounds of the labored breathing by the two men. Neither of them wanted it to come to this, but both men had become desperate. One, desperate to save his family, the other, desperate to save his kingdom. No one would have ever envisioned such an ending for the two heroic friends. Friends who had battled side by side as they journeyed to gather the armies of Ferelden. Friends who had stood alone against the blight while Ferelden was embroiled in a civil war started by a madman. Friends who were now trying to kill each other.

"I said, finish it!" The king shouted.

The Warden raised his blade over his head to strike the final blow. He took aim at the king's neck and began to swing.

"No!" Someone yelled for up the slope. Morrigan had emerged from her spot hidden behind the rocks and scampered down the hill as fast as she could with a child in her arms, Leliana and the mabari in pursuit.

"You shall not kill him." she said to The Warden, "Alistair is your friend. I cannot let you do this."

"Stay out of this, Morrigan." The Warden told her, "I can't let him stop us."

"Look at me, Dwemer," the witch said as she stood between The Warden and his target, "I am asking you not to."

"Those are strange words from a person who only a few days ago said she would kill him herself."

"She really said that?" Alistair asked in amazement.

"Yes. Those were my words." the witch answered, "But I was wrong in saying them."

"You know what's at stake here. We can't let Alistair keep us from the orbs."

"So you would kill him instead? If you two buffoons would put aside your titanic egos long enough, you would be able to see how absolutely ludicrous this whole this episode is. He is the King of Ferelden. You cannot expect to simply dispatch him and consider the matter finished. And you..." Morrigan said, turning to the king, "What is it that you hope to accomplish by bringing me back to Denerim? You would have done nothing more than place a noose around my neck."

"So what are we supposed to do, then?" The Warden inquired.

"The answer to that is quite simple: We will continue our search for the orbs and Alistair shall accompany us."

"Hang on just a minute." Alistair interjected.

"Were you not the loser in this particular fight? _I_ would be readily agreeable to any mercy offered, were I you." The witch noted.

"Point made." the king confirmed.

"After we've retrieved the orbs The Warden and I shall go willingly with you back to Denerim."

"That would be suicide!" The Warden exclaimed.

"I'll not spend the rest of whatever life I have hiding in the shadows. I intend to face my accusers."

"There's no way I'll agree to that."

"You have wished me to be more open with you. To 'let my guard down' as you put it. I am asking you to do this for me." The witch said, staring into his eyes, "Please."

"For you." The Warden replied.

"Then it is settled."

"What am I supposed to do with all these horses once we're in Orzammar?" Alistair asked.

"There will be no need of either them or your men." The witch informed.

"We go were the king goes." Captain Derik stated, "You won't be dragging him off anywhere alone."

"That's alright, Captain." Alistair rebuffed, "I'm going alone. It'll be fine. I need you to deliver a message to Arl Eamon and tell him what's happened."

"But, Your Majesty..."

"You have your orders, Captain." the king said, stopping Derik cold, "Besides, I'll have The Great Grey Warden watching my back."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Well..." The Warden said, "look who turned into a king after all."

"I guess I just needed to right motivation." Alistair replied.

"It's good to see you, Alistair." Leliana said, giving the king a big hug.

"You, too, Leliana." Alistair returned, "I wish it were under better circumstances, though."

"The four of us are finally back together again, that is all that matters."

Alistair grabbed gear from the back of his mount and proceeded to join the group on in it's search for the Orbs of Arastani. Leliana had been right about the old adventuring group being back together. Another thing that felt all too convenient to the king. He couldn't shake the feeling that all of this had been prearranged. He had been drawn out of Denerim to pursue The Warden, but why? And what was the bard's role in all of this? Leliana was the last person that Alistair expected to find with The Warden. Something bigger was going on than what any of them were seeing. He was sure of it. He just hadn't put all the pieces together yet.


	11. Chapter 11

**Part XI**

After roughing it in the wilds, having the creature comforts again were quite enjoyable, even if those comforts were a bit scaled down in size. The Warden and his party had made it to Orzammar at last, and, thanks to a local connection, were able to locate an empty house in the Commons that they were able to lease. As luck would have it, the previous inhabitants were human traders who were conducting business in the city and they left behind most of the furniture they had installed when they moved out. The ceilings were low and the quarters cramped. But at least the beds were big enough.

In the meantime, the party was settling in at their temporary abode. Alistair and Leliana spent several hours catching up with each other. The Warden and the king behaved as if nothing had ever come between them, irritating Morrigan as usual and causing her to refer to the men as 'eternally adolescent'.

There were only two bedrooms in the small house, with Morrigan claiming the larger one for herself and the child and Leliana opting for the smaller one. The two men and the mabari would make use of the dwarf-sized sofas in the den. That is, until later that first night when Morrigan got "cold" and needed The Warden's assistance. That left Alistair alone in the den with the mabari. The King of all Ferelden spent his first night in Orzammar with his feet dangling over the side of a small sofa , half-covered by a blanket that was made for someone two feet shorter than he, and in the company of a dog with an apparent addiction to licking himself.

The first order of business was to visit the Shaperate, the archive of all dwarven knowledge, and try to find out what they could about the lost passage in the Deep Roads and the Orbs of Arastani. The Deep Roads ran underneath the Frostback Mountains and consisted of many miles on underground tunnels. Back in the height of the Dwarven Empire, these roads connected the various thaigs, or colonies, with each other and the capital city of Orzammar. With the arrival of the darkspawn, all that changed. Now the Deep Roads and the various thaigs all lay in ruin and filled with the vile monsters.

The Shaperate itself was a vast repository of knowledge. Row after row of large, two-sided shelves lined the main hall, each one holding thousands of tomes. Together they contained the entire history of the dwarven people. Every birth and every death that occurred in Orzammar was recorded by the Shapers within these books, going back to a time before the rise of the darkspawn.

The Warden spent many hours in the Shaperate, carefully combing through hundreds of lengthy volumes on history and lore. He found several references to the orbs. The bits and pieces began to come together into a more coherent picture. The Warden could tell that the orbs were apparently dwarven in origin. When the Tevinter Imperium was at it's height, The Imperial Archon commissioned the dwarves to build the orbs. It was a monumental task that took many years to complete. Three perfectly round crystal orbs of different sizes were the result. The smallest being the size of an orange and the largest being the size of a gourd. The original purpose of the orbs was to free the most significant of the old gods, Dumat, from his prison deep underground. The orbs vanished for a time just after the appearance of the first darkspawn, only to resurface later but in an altered state. Now instead of clear, they were been stained blood red. As if they had been used for a dark and evil purpose and were now somehow tainted.

When it came to finding the passage in the Deep Roads that he was after, however, his search was less successful. It's not that he couldn't find an old passage that shot off from the main road in any of the maps or records. The problem was there were thousands of them and he had no clue which was the one he sought. He would have to investigate each route individually. A tedious and time consuming process. And time was luxury he didn't have.

The Warden explained to Morrigan what he had found about the orbs and how he'd been unable to locate the road to the mountain temple. He had been searching for several days and was running out of places to look. Fortunately she was able to offer some small consolation. Morrigan had remembered a bit more of what Flemeth had said about the orbs.

"I remember mother telling me that the orbs were made to feed the souls of men to the gods. And that they were also somehow defiled and tainted." The witch said.

"Defiled? How?" The Warden asked.

"As the story goes, after the magisters were changed into the first darkspawn, if you believe such things, they acquired the orbs, and in their new forms used them to awaken the old god, Dumat, transforming the god into the first archdemon in the process and defiling the orbs."

"So they've been changed somehow."

"So it would seem. Only someone possessed of the taint may hold them now."

"But your mother doesn't have the taint, does she."

"Of course not. However, tis a foolish notion to think she would ever be hindered by such a thing."

"Agreed." The Warden concurred.

* * *

As it happened, Oghren had made a brief return to Orzammar after a long stay on the surface with Felsi, his old flame. They had been reunited thanks to some help from The Warden. Oghren also had the distinction of being the first dwarven general in a human army, something else he owed The Warden. The man was so respected by the dwarf, he named his first son Dwemer.

Oghren was in the city to collect some of his items from his old house in the Diamond Quarter. He heard about The Warden and party's presence inside the city, and sent them an invitation to meet with him at the local tavern so they could get reacquainted. And of course, as always, that would mean many pints of ale being tossed back.

Morrigan had misgivings about letting The Warden go off to meet the dwarf, whom she viewed as nothing more than a womanizing drunkard. She made it a point to inform The Warden of her displeasure. He calmly reassured her that there was no need to worry, Oghren was an old friend. The fact that Alistair would be joining him only made the witch feel worse.

The dwarf was already staggeringly drunk by the time The Warden and Alistair arrived at the pub. Upon meeting Oghren, they found a table in the back and settled around it. After a bit of convincing, the dwarf was able to talk his companions into joining him for a few pitchers. It wasn't long before tongues began to loosen and The Warden confided in the dwarf his current dilemma.

"So you two actually came to blows? That's sodding beautiful!" Oghren exclaimed with a drunken slur.

"Morrigan stopped us, though." Alistair said as he took another swig of his drink.

"Ah, she's a fiery one." the dwarf said.

"Yes she is." The Warden concurred, "And she's already going to be mad enough so we better get going."

"Sodding women. But you just got here. Let's have another drink before you go."

"I'd love to, Oghren. But I have to be back at the Shaperate early." The Warden said as he stumbled slightly, "I have to find the path in the Deep Roads."

"Deep Roads, you say?" the dwarf asked.

"I'm looking for a path the leads to a temple high in the Frostback Mountains. The path is supposedly buried somewhere in the Deep Roads, but I don't have a clue where. That's why I'm going back to the Shaperate."

"You should talk to my friend, Redic." Oghren offered. "He's warrior caste and spent a good bit of time in the Deep Roads. A couple of years ago he was sent on an expedition to try to find out what happened to some of the lost thaigs. They never did find any, but they said there was a path that led to the surface and something else. I was drunk and can't remember what else he said."

"Where can I find him?" The Warden questioned.

"He's warrior caste so he moves around a bit. You might try asking around over at the central guard post. They should be able to tell you where he's stationed." The dwarf reached for the pitcher and refilled The Warden's tankard. "Now, enough talk! Not when there is so much sodding drinking to be done!"

Alistair and The Warden stayed to have a few more drinks with Oghren, out of courtesy. The trio sat around their table and shared tales until well into the night. And after many empty pitchers, The Warden and Alistair finally made their way back to the small domicile.

It took them a bit to cross the main center of the Commons as both men were having trouble keeping the Earth centered beneath their feet. Alistair stumbled and nearly fell over one of the many guardrails that lined the walkways in the city, and The Warden tripped into a large sign that held important postings, which fell over with a loud "clang" that echoed throughout the massive underground chamber.

They were approached by a night watchman, who, upon immediately noticing their condition, suggested the men head straight home. The watchman toyed with the idea of arresting them, but concluded it would probably be too much trouble just getting the two lugs into lockup. So the watchman allowed the men to continue on their way, with a stern warning, of course.

As quietly as mice, the two crept inside through the small doorway and into the house. It was pitch black inside as Morrigan, the child, and Leliana had all retired for the evening. The Warden and Alistair were slowly moving into the den when The Warden's foot tripped over something large and furry. Leo let out a surprised yelp.

Instantly there was a flash of blue light which settled into a small hovering orb. The sudden burst stunned the men and it took a moment for their vision to clear. Soon a slender hand, with the palm upright, could be seen beneath the orb. Then an arm. Finally a face that contained the most angry of scowls.

"So, you finally deign it appropriate to return." Morrigan scoffed angrily.

"I can explain..." The Warden said trying his best to avoid the inevitable fury that he would have to face.

"_And_ you're drunk. How lovely."

"No, I'm not." The Warden tried to lie, failing badly.

Behind The Warden came a loud "thump" as Alistair passed out and fell backwards. The Warden stood there staring at the unconscious king lying on the floor, not quite sure what to do.

"Oh, just leave him." The witch hissed, as she grabbed The Warden by the arm and guided him. "You are going to sleep this off. And when you do we shall discuss the matter."

Morrigan assisted The Warden up the stairs to the the main bedroom on the second floor. His girth being far greater than hers, it took great effort for her to keep him from crashing into various objects. He nearly fell into Seth's small dwarven bed that was stuffed in the corner of the bedroom. With one final heave, the witch was able to steer The Warden towards the bed, where he toppled and crashed.

The next morning, The Warden awoke to dwarven miners hard at work in his skull. His head throbbed mercilessly and his stomach danced about all his gut. His eyes were extremely sensitive to even the faint candles that lined the room.

"Good morning, my sweet." Morrigan said loudly as she barged into the room, "Tis time to rise."

The witch grabbed the blanket, yanking it back and exposing The Warden. She clapped her hands together a few times, saying, "Up with you, now." The Warden was convinced her hand was right next to his ear as the sounds rang through his head.

"Alright. I'm up." he said with a groggy voice.

He somehow managed to find the strength to pull himself to a sitting position, and then at last stand. He raised his hands to his head to massage his throbbing temples.

"Do not stand about all day. There things that need attending to, are there not?" She said as she placed her hands on her hips.

"Don't start with me right now, Morrigan. I feel like hell."

"As you deserve." The witch said, "Still, those tasks are not going to simply vanish because of your night of inebriated stupidity."

"I'm aware of that." he said calmly.

"Really? Because from the way you were acting last night one would get the impression you haven't a care in the world."

"Dammit, Morrigan! I said I wasn't in the mood for this right now!" he exclaimed in frustration.

The witch was genuinely shocked. He had never raised his voice to her once in the entire time they had known each other. Suddenly she felt uneasy. He had never been so openly angered with her, and she disliked it very much.

"I...I...only meant to..." she stammered, unsure of what to say to appease him.

Seeing what he had done, he cursed himself and walked over to the witch, grabbed her in his arms, and gently squeezed.

"I'm sorry." He whispered to her. "I shouldn't have said that."

"No. You are right to chastise. I am always making things difficult for you." she said as she leaned against his chest.

"No, you don't."

"You are a terrible liar." she said, looking up at him.

* * *

Captain Derik and the rest of the cavalrymen had made the long trip back to Denerim. Which, much to their surprise, was not at all like the city they had left. There were no mobs lining the streets, nor were there any angry protesters shouting from steps, wagons, or other platforms. Neither was there any sign of violence. Everything was exactly in it's place. Denerim appeared perfectly _normal_.

As the men rode through the city, they noticed the market was buzzing with it's normal energy as merchants and customers loudly haggled with each other. There were no signs of any disturbance as they rode past the chantry, with the priests, chanter, and parishioners exactly as they should be. Riding up through the palace gates, they were greeted by the palace guards, none of whom were at alert. The whole scene felt eerily calm, Captain Derik, thought.

The Captain met with Arl Eamon immediately upon returning to the palace. Eamon was not pleased that the king was not among those returning. When Derik informed the arl of the reasons behind the king's absence, Eamon was even less pleased. He ordered the Captain to return to Orzammar and bring the king back to Denerim as soon as Alistair returned from his foolhardy quest. With things having settled down in the city there was no further need for the king to adamantly pursue The Warden. But, as the arl explained, the city, and all of Ferelden for that matter, required the king to be in the capital, on his throne.

Derik was curious about Denerim's sudden turnaround. He wondered if the arl was such an effective regent that he could accomplish in two weeks what the king had been unable to do for nearly a year. Eamon explained that it was no doing on his part. After The Warden and the king left Denerim, the city just began to quiet down on it's own. It was very odd, the arl noted. While there was still concern over The Warden's whereabouts, the people hadn't been nearly as vocal about it. Almost as if the fires that started the inferno had burned out and were now merely faint embers.

* * *

It had taken a good bit of work, but The Warden was at last able to track down Oghren's friend, Redic. It seems the dwarven military is reluctant to give out the locations of it's soldiers without a very good cause, as The Warden found out.

Just as Oghren had suggested, he went to the central guard post, located on the edge of the Diamond Quarter. And, even though the guards knew his identity, they refused to divulge the information. No matter how The Warden tried to coax them.

"I have to have clearance from my superiors to hand out that kind of information." one of the guards told him.

His frustration would only mount as, for several hours, The Warden was bounced from one dwarf to the next, each telling him that, while they understood it was an important matter, they were just not able to give out that kind of information. Finally out of desperation, The Warden went to the Royal Palace to talk to the dwarven king, Pyral Harrowmont. A man whom The Warden himself had put on the throne.

Harrowmont granted The Warden an immediate audience as soon as he was made aware of The Warden's arrival. The king was only too happy to help him locate Redic, ordering the head of his royal guard to investigate the matter immediately. Before long the guard returned with Redic's location written on a piece of parchment. He handed the note to The Warden with a deep bow. Once the note had been taken, the guard snapped around and returned to his post, standing as rigid as stone.

For once there was some good news. It seems that Redic was stationed very close by. In fact, he was on temporary assignment in The Commons marketplace as a watchman. But he would only be there another week. After that he was going to be deployed to the Deep Roads and probably wouldn't be back for months.

The Warden quickly made his way down from the Diamond Quarter and back to The Commons. Once there, it wasn't long before he located Redic at his post.

He was stocky, even for a dwarf and his hair was black as soot. His stance at his post was looser than younger soldiers', who had a tendency to stand rigid and at attention. Scars from many years spent in the darkened bowels of the Deep Roads covered him.

The Warden approached Redic and introduced himself. Fortunately, he was one of the few dwarves that Oghren was actually still on good terms with and he readily told The Warden all he knew about the path in the Deep Roads. Redic even went so far as to mark the location of the path on a map for The Warden.

The dwarf also mentioned that he and his men had followed the small tunnel to it's end, somewhere high in the Frostback Mountains, possibly even in Orlais. They found a temple there, carved from the side of the mountain. It was a very dark place, Redic noted, with black pillars that had evil dragons and other monsters carved in them. He and his men never ventured within the temple, and held no clue as to what secrets it may contain. But one thing he knew for sure was that the place was pure evil.

Thanking Redic for his help, The Warden hurried to inform Morrigan of what he had found out. It was a long shot at best, but considering their options at the moment, it seemed like the one most likely to produce results. The dwarven army never ventured all that far into the Deep Roads and the passage in question was relatively close by. Within a few days he might have the orbs and this whole ordeal would be over with.

Walking back towards his place in the Commons, The Warden happened to pass through the market area. And not just any part of the market, either. It was where he had purchased a golden hand-mirror that was encrusted with gems. The merchant who sold him the item was still there, haggling with another customer. The mirror had been a special gift for the witch. When Morrigan was a child she had acquired a similar mirror that she adored. Flemeth shattered the object to demonstrate how beauty was fleeting and only power mattered.

Something special happened after he gave her the mirror. She changed somehow. It was then that she professed that she had fallen for him. It was a difficult thing for Morrigan to admit and she was terrified of being rejected. But something inside her snapped and she could no longer resist. So she took the risk and asked The Warden if there was something more to them than just the physical; if he felt the same way about her.

He did indeed feel something more for her, and he wanted to tell her a hundred times. But she would have been less than receptive to the idea, calling him a sentimental fool or something of the like. So he waited patiently until she was ready. And eventually his patience was rewarded as she finally began to open up to him. The Warden considered that moment as the true start of their relationship.

Almost without noticing, The Warden had reached his destination and stood in front of it. His mind was elsewhere as he reminisced. Eventually he realized his location, opened the front door, and walked inside.

"I take it you'll be going off again to look for this temple." Morrigan told him upon hearing the news, "And how long is it that you plan on being gone this time?"

"I wouldn't go if I didn't have to. If there's any chance at all that this is the place I'm looking for, then I have find it." He reassured her as best he could, but to no avail.

"It seems that you are always finding ways to leave me behind." she said, folding her arms.

"You could always go and I could stay and look after Seth." He replied sarcastically.

"What a fine mess that would make! I think not."

She reached for him and took his hands in hers and held them for a moment. Her gaze fell to the floor and she asked, "When are you leaving?" in a faint voice.

"First thing in the morning." he said to her. "I thought you didn't like touching."

"As did I." the witch replied.

No matter how much the witch wished otherwise, night fell and the next day came without interruption. And with it came more disturbing news for Morrigan. Only Alistair would be accompanying The Warden in the Deep Roads. That meant Leliana and Leo would be staying behind. Rather than argue with The Warden however, she was compliant, even agreeable. It was definitely not the reaction that he anticipated, but he didn't question her.

"With any luck I should only be gone a few days." The Warden told her. "And I'll have Alistair to look after me."

"You will forgive me for not being put at ease by that statement." Morrigan returned.

"I'm so glad to see that time hasn't caused your faith in me to waiver in the slightest." Alistair said to the witch.

"We'll be fine. The question is, are you going to be alright?" The Warden asked, "You haven't been acting like yourself for a while now. Something's bothering you."

"Tis not the time to discuss such matters. It shall wait until your return." Morrigan replied.

"When I return, then." he confirmed as he started to leave.

"Am I not to receive a kiss before you depart?" the witch inquired with a pout.

"Of course you are." The Warden said as he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers in a long kiss.

She held her lips close to his ear and whispered, "I love you."

He looked at her in amazement, his mind still trying to confirm what his ears had heard. There was no denying she said it. She had actually said it. His mouth began to form words, to tell the witch the same thing. But before he could speak, she placed her slender finger to his lips.

"Not yet." Morrigan told him softly, "Keep those words on your lips until you return to me."

The Warden nodded in acknowledgment.

"Don't worry. We'll be fine." Leliana said with a cheery smile, "And you two will be back before you know it."

The Warden and Alistair headed out for the Deep Roads. While he did venture much further into them last time he was under the mountain, The Warden knew the way would still be difficult. Darkspawn filled the Deep Roads and chances were high that he and Alistair would encounter more than a few of the foul beings, as well as a host of other terrors that called the passageways within the Deep Roads home. Even still, it was good to have Alistair back at his side. Together they were a formidable force and that would greatly increase their chances of success in the blackened deep that awaited.


	12. Chapter 12

**Part XII**

Probably one of the worst kept secrets was the fact that the witch always had a soft spot for the mabari. She would often slip him various treats when she thought no one else was looking, saying to the hound "tell no one.", as she did so. And the mabari, being who he was, had a difficult time keeping the secret and would often pounce on Morrigan looking for a snack or some affection. She found it infuriating. But the beast would always whimper, whine, and pout. Eventually, the witch was unable to resist his sad eyes and reluctantly forgave the animal.

Taking care of Leo was not the chore Morrigan made it out to be. She actually preferred the mabari over most of the people she knew. Having taken the form of a wolf on many occasions, she felt a certain kinship with him; not that it made the beast obey her commands any better. Although, Leo had been more cooperative since The Warden told the dog to mind the witch while he was away.

Still, when one resides underground, it takes a great deal more effort to take a dog to perform his natural duties. While the party was fortunate enough to be staying in the Commons, it was still a toil to have to stroll all the way to the Hall of Heroes to get to the front gates of Orzammar and reach the outside, where the mabari, could at last, do his business.

Leliana would watch the baby while Morrigan took Leo topside several times a day. The witch was extremely mistrustful of the bard and had misgivings about leaving her child with Leliana, but she had little choice. It was unwise to take Seth into the cold mountain air where he could get sick. Not to mention controlling the mabari and getting him back inside was a monumental task itself. So Seth stayed behind and the bard looked after him.

The bard actually did a fairly decent job of caring for the child. She seemed to have a natural knack for it. Another of the wholesome traits that Morrigan felt she lacked. The witch felt as though she was bumbling her way blindly when it came to motherhood. It had taken her a bit to find her way. While Flemeth had dispensed countless volumes of advice on power and how to acquire it, the old hag had never said the first thing about how to nurture a baby. The witch was simply at a loss most of the time. On the outside, Morrigan showed no signs of distress, but on the inside she was terrified that she would make a mistake and hurt her son.

Initially, when the child was still new inside her, she would resist the maternal urges that had begun to flood her. But after a time, their power was too much too resist and the witch succumb to them. Having the child grow inside her and knowing it was a life that she helped create greatly changed her views on many things. She now believed it was highly improbable that Flemeth was her birth-mother. After all, who could experience such a thing as pregnancy and not be moved by it?

She had been raised to believe that power was all and the weak serve the mighty. It was the way of things. Love was irrelevant; a weakness or a tool. It was what you said to somebody to get something you wanted. At least that was what Flemeth had told her. Love was for the weak. Then Morrigan crawled out of the woods and into the world and found out differently.

Love was a disease. It made you stronger when you had it, but weaker than ever when it was lost. That was the true nature of love. It was a cruel master that turned a person into something they were never intended to be, all for the sake of another. And when it chose to be, love was irresistible. There was no escaping it's power.

Seth and The Warden were all she had, and Morrigan loved them both dearly. But she still had a hard time not being ashamed by her feelings for them, especially The Warden. So she stayed closed off from him most of the time, only showing him bits and pieces of herself. But he knew how she felt about him. In fact, he knew her far better than anyone else ever did. Well enough to know she would never be the type of woman to openly display affection. It was something the witch deemed silly and pointless. At least she used to. Before she fell for him and everything she thought she knew was turned upside down.

Now she understood the deal with all the touching. Touching him and being touched by him made her feel safe and secure, whether he held her hand or just stood near her. But she told The Warden she despised all of the touching nonsense and she was not about to look like some silly girl in front of him. But she was wrong about the touching. Surprisingly, it was one of her favorite parts. But the witch would never admit to such a thing.

Eventually though, there wasn't going to be any way around it. She would have to lower her walls and let him in. Otherwise, she feared, she would lose him to the bard. That and a large part of her actually wanted to show him more. But old habits die hard and she feared looking the fool and being rejected.

But she had taken the first risk. She had said those three words to him that she could never take back. And worse still, she meant them. She had hoped he was going to repeat those words to her, but doubt filled her. All she could see was Flemeth's face telling her what a fool she was for saying such things. She placed her fingers over his lips to prevent him from crashing her dreams and letting her hope for a while longer.

Other couples threw the phrase around casually. But it had taken her well over a year to tell him for the first time. Even though there was great truth in those words far before she said them. Morrigan was beginning to see that, while knowing was good, sometimes a person still needed to hear those three life-altering words. And sometimes a person needed to say them as well. There were a great many things that Morrigan needed to tell him. The witch was determined not to lose The Warden to Leliana without a fight.

The bard was one of The Warden's closest friends, which made it hard. The fact that she was also beautiful and obviously attracted to him made it worse. And even worse still, the two agreed on many things that he and the witch did not. So it was only a matter of time before Morrigan did something stupid and he went running to the bard's open arms.

* * *

It was early evening and Morrigan was in the small kitchen preparing the night's meal. The mabari lay on the floor a few feet from the witch, patiently waiting for any scraps she may toss his way while Seth lay in his basket on the table. Leliana sat on a wooden stool just behind Morrigan, watching the witch as she cooked.

Morrigan did most of the group's cooking, with The Warden also taking a turn from time to time. Alistair and Leliana displayed no aptitude for the culinary arts, however, and had been banned from cooking by the witch. Especially Leliana, for almost setting fire to the entire camp during the Blight. The Warden was quite the opposite. Nan had taught him how to cook from an early age and he seemed to have a knack for it. The witch was not so secretly jealous that he was a better cook than she. Which is precisely why she did the bulk of the cooking.

"You're left-handed." Leliana said as she watched Morrigan working with a knife.

"I beg your pardon?" Morrigan responded, only half-paying attention.

"I just noticed that you're left-handed. I never saw that before."

"If by 'left-handed' you mean that I do most tasks primarily with my left hand, then you would be correct." The witch said as she scraped the chopped vegetables into the stew. "In case you had not noticed, The Warden is as well."

"I knew Dwemer was. I've seen him shoot a bow many times. I just never knew that you were, too."

"And what exactly is so wrong with The Warden and me being 'left-handed', as you put it?"

"Oh, nothing." Leliana said defensively, "I just don't think I've ever known two left-handed people at the same time before."

Morrigan was preparing to discard the peels and other odds and ends from the meal's preparation when the mabari sat up and began barking at her.

"You will not take that tone with me." She said to the hound, "Your scraps are over here. I have not forgotten."

Leo gave out an approving bark.

"Just you remember that later, ungrateful beast." Morrigan said as she placed the dog's scraps in a bowl and set them on the floor in front of him.

"You're the only other person he'll listen to." the bard noted as she watched the mabari hastily gulp down his prize in large chunks, "I think you actually like Leo more than you let on."

"Do not be absurd." the witch retorted, "The Warden holds the animal in high regard. Therefore, tis my duty to look after the wretched creature."

"That's something else I've noticed, too. Why do you always refer to him as 'The Warden'? His name is Dwemer."

"I am well aware of his name."

"Then why don't you call him by it?" Leliana prodded, "You of all people should do so."

"And exactly what does that mean?"

"You're closer to him than anyone else."

"And that bothers you, does it?" the witch asked, swinging around to face the bard, "That I have his heart and you do not?"

"What are you talking about?"

"The War...Dwemer may find your coyness charming, I, however, do not."

"You're being paranoid. I have no designs on him."

"Your actions would seem to dictate otherwise." Morrigan noted as she folded her arms and glared at the bard.

"This is ridiculous. I'm not going to play this game with you."

"A game, it most assuredly, is not. I will know your intentions with _my_ man."

"What do you want from me? What do you want me to say? Do you want to hear that I wish he was mine instead of yours? Well, I do." the bard said, exasperated, "But I would never do anything to try to come between you. He chose you. All I can do is try to be happy for him. It took some time, but I'm alright with it."

"Is that why you turn away when he and I embrace?"

"I never said it was easy for me. But I accept it."

"We shall see the truth of your words." the witch said as she eyed the bard suspiciously.

* * *

The Warden and Alistair had at last reached the Deep Roads after a long hike through the dwarven mines. Now the duo needed to find Caridin's Cross, take the western passage until they made it to the abandoned dwarven outpost, and from there head south on a lone passageway for many miles that lead back up to the surface from the depths of the mountain. The journey to the temple should take them just over a day. After that, there was no telling how long they would be at this unknown temple. They weren't even sure if there was even anything to be found there. But The Warden would not allow any doubts to enter his mind. He had to believe this was the place he was searching for and that inside the old temple he would find the orbs. If it turned out that wasn't case, The Warden had no clue what his next move was, save for heading back to the Shaperate and skimming more volumes.

In the meantime, The Warden was enjoying having Alistair around again and the two talked at length while they traveled the dark passages. They talked about the times they had together during the Blight, which now only seemed like a distant memory. They talked about what had happened since, promising each other to keep a cooler head in the future. They talked about many things. Eventually they came to the topic of the witch.

Out of curiosity, Alistair inquired what The Warden intended to do during the gap between this particular crisis and the next; whether or not there were going to be a pack of vicious little Grey Wardens running about.

The Warden was candid with his friend, telling Alistair that he was unsure of what the witch ultimately wanted. The Warden knew what he wanted, but he wasn't sure if that's what Morrigan wanted.

"There's no hope for you. You know that right?" Alistair told The Warden.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." The Warden replied.

"That's what I'm here for, remember? Seriously though, if you want my advice, I say go for broke."

"Go for broke?"

"You know. Lay it all out in front of her. Tell her what you want."

"And what if she says no?"

"Well then, you'll always have me." Alistair said, smiling.

Before the men had realized it, they had made their way to Caridin's Cross, and what used to be one of the main junctions in the Deep Roads. It was said that one could get to any part of the dwarven empire from there. At the height of the empire, Caridin's Cross was considered to be one of the most strategic military points under the mountains. But after it was lost during centuries of battling the darkspawn that ravage these depths, the crossroads were withered in decay, with barely a hint of their former glory.

From there the two traveled west and beyond the regions of the dwarven patrols. The only other creatures they would meet now would be the type that would want to kill them, along with the possibility of the occasional dwarf driven mad from eating too much darkspawn flesh.

They changed their course and started to head down a long narrow passage, just south from the old outpost. The way was cloaked in total darkness, save for the torches the two men carried with them. The walls were shiny and smooth, but the space was tight and the chambers were still roughly carved. Whoever constructed this passageway did so in a hurry.

According to the markings that Redic made to The Warden's map, the passage ran southwesterly for many miles beneath the Frostback Mountains. It was going to take a good deal of time to hike the entire distance. And if the quarters stayed as cramped as they were, any combat they might have to endure would be difficult at best.

The orbs were all that mattered now. The Warden had to make sure he reached them before Flemeth did. Once he had them he would destroy them so they could never threaten those he loved ever again. Then he could focus on others things. And at long last, he and the witch would be able to plan a life together.

* * *

The past two days had been pure hell for Leliana and Morrigan. With no one else for company, or to referee, the two woman had bickered constantly with each other. The bard was convinced that most of the things the witch said were just to rile her. It was an infuriating and frustrating experience as the witch never cracked or flinched from her constant verbal onslaught, all the while staying perfectly calm and composed. Leliana was starting to think that Morrigan had gone completely insane.

No matter how she tried to convince the crazy witch that she had no intentions of trying to take The Warden from her, the paranoid woman refused to hear it. She could have denied being attracted to him, although everyone _but_ The Warden knew that was a lie. It was in her nature to be honest and she had admitted the attraction. Something she now regretted doing.

There was more going on than the witch would like to reveal, Leliana was sure of it. Morrigan had always had a pronounced jealous streak, but this was way more than usual. The witch had been especially vicious to her ever since The Warden had left. But it was different from before. Where normally, Morrigan would throw out the odd insulting comment now and then, this new attack seemed to have a purpose, like the witch was looking to accomplish something. What that something was, the bard had no clue. But if The Warden didn't return soon, Leliana was swore she was going to rip all of Morrigan's hair out.

The night was getting late and the woman were set to retire for the evening. As far as their arguing went, this day had been a record breaker. Both of them were mentally and physically exhausted from their constant battling. They needed a break from each other, so Morrigan thought it would be a good time to take the mabari for his nightly stroll before she got Seth ready for bed.

Leo, sensing what was going on, began to get excited. The dog walked to the door and gave it a light scratch with his paw, then turned and headed towards the witch and gave her a little nudge, guiding her to the exit.

"You will show patience!" Morrigan told the dog as she wrapped a thick cloak about herself.

Opening the door, the witch and the mabari stepped out of the house and into the Commons, with the dog barking excitedly as the two headed for the Hall of Heroes, and out the front gates of Orzammar.

The wind was bitter and cold as it bit the witch. The mabari quickly ran passed her to begin sniffing the rocky ground. Leo buried his snoot in the snow and feverishly huffed back and forth as a he scanned for an appropriate location. Gradually their path took the two down the mountain trail and passed the closed dwarven and human merchant carts that had set up shop just outside the city's gates.

Eventually, Leo found a spot that he considered to his liking. While he performed his duties, Morrigan stood by, wrapped in her heavy cloak, and freezing. Her teeth chattered as the icy wind cut through her. Venturing into the cold was not among one of the Morrigan's many talents and she still lacked the knowledge of dressing in layers. The witch was too preoccupied with the cold and the dog to notice four men in ornate metal armor walking up behind her.

The strong wind covered the sound of their steps as they approached the witch and the mabari. It was only after Leo had finished his business that he noticed the group and began barking at them. Morrigan swung around to see what had alerted the beast and that's when she saw the four men. They wore expensive armor that was custom made and carved into each of their breastplates was a large sword of mercy. There was no doubt. These men were templars.

The group circled the witch and mabari and took up defensive postures, with hands on their weapons, ready to pounce at any instant.

"You are Morrigan, Witch of the Wilds?" one of them asked through his visor.

"And if I say that I am, what then?" the witch replied.

"I would place you under arrest by order of the Grand Cleric."

"And, just exactly, who are you?"

"Ser Guthrie of The Templars."

"If it is your wish to so foolishly toss away your life, you shall hear no argument from me." The witch said while the mabari took up a defensive stance, positioning himself between Morrigan and the lead templar.

"We're immune to your magic, witch. That and considering it's four against one, I think I'll take those odds."

"Then you shall die as the fool that you are. For while, tis true, you are resistant to my power, you are, however, far from immune to it." The witch explained in a calm voice. "And considering your difficulty with simple numbers, the only thing that you ensure is your doom."

"What are you talking about, demon?"

"Tis not four against one. Tis four against _two_." Morrigan corrected as she looked at the mabari. "Leo...kill."

The mabari instantly sprang towards the lead templar, tackling him. The beast began to viciously tear the templar's armor to shreds, all the while the poor man screamed in terror. The three other templars hesitated, unsure of the proper course of action. The witch used the opportunity to prepare the proper spell, something they would have no defense against.

Channeling her power, Morrigan cast forth bright blue bolts of lighting that crackled as they arced through the thin mountain air. Her target, however, was not the templars, who were resistant to such magic, but their shiny armor instead, which was not.

The bolts struck home against two of the templars, and magic gave way to the science of conductivity, essentially turning the templar's armor into lightning rods, frying the men within. The smell of burning flesh filled the air as both men collapsed to the ground, motionless.

With her focus fixed on the two men she had just fried, Morrigan failed to notice that the last of the templars had recovered and lunged towards her, blade first. Hearing the man's charge, the witch turned to face him, but it was too late to dodge the attack and Morrigan braced herself for the inevitable pierce of his blade.

A blur of fur and fang flashed past the witch's eyes. There was a loud yelp as the templar's blade struck home and was pulled from his hand, followed by the thud of something crash landing into the snow.

"Leo!" Morrigan yelled loudly.

The templar stood there for a moment, not quite understanding what had just happened. His eyes finally met Morrigan's hate-filled gaze. The witch slowly walked to the man, her eyes blazing and mystical power crackling from her fingertips.

"How best to kill you?" she said as she advanced.

The templar quickly turned and began to run down the mountain path as fast as he could. As the man fled, Morrigan charged her spell, drawing forth arcane power. A flash of bright yellow light flew from the witch's fingers as a large ball of flame raced to its target. And just before the templar was able to make it to the shelter of a large boulder, the fireball struck him, spectacularly blowing the man to many small pieces.

Quickly, the witch ran to the mabari, who was lying in the snow on his side, a trail of blood leading up to him. She saw that the sword was still deeply plunged into the beast and he was losing blood rapidly. Panic began to fill the witch.

Planting her foot firmly in the snow, Morrigan wrapped her hands around the blade's handle and pulled as hard as she could, trying to free the weapon as quickly as she could. Leo let out a painful squeal as the blade was withdrawn and his blood began to flow even more freely.

Morrigan removed her cloak, the only real protection against the elements she possessed, and bundled it up in her hands. She then pressed the wadded up fabric against the dog's wound, applying pressure. Her eyes began to scan the area for anyone who could render aid. While there were many carts and booths just outside the city gates, at this hour there was no one manning them and there were few souls to be seen.

It would be impossible for Morrigan to carry the mabari back inside on her own. The massive beast outweighed her by at least seventy pounds. But he was hurt and bleeding badly so she had to do something. If the animal died it would be her fault and that was something the witch wasn't prepared to live with. So she did the only thing she could think to do to save the dog's life.

"You there!" Morrigan shouted to a couple of stout dwarves who were packing up their wares for the night and had seen the conflict, "I require your assistance."

The two stood there looking at her, then looking at each other, then looking at her again.

"_Please help me_!" She shouted to them again.

The dwarves raced down the path to where the witch was, and, per her careful instructions, hoisted the dog and slowly ushered him inside the gates with the witch at his side tending to the injury.

* * *

"Get down!" The Warden yelled as he pushed Alistair's head down, narrowly avoiding the Hurlock Alpha's blade as it swung by.

With both blades clenched firmly in his fists, The Warden leaped to strike the hurlock, slicing it in half at the waist as he swung his swords.

There was a loud whacking sound as the king used his shield to pummel a small genlock into a pulp, finishing the vile creature by thrusting his blade through it's gut.

"I think that's finally the last of them for a while." Alistair said as he wiped the black blood off his sword.

"There's always more." The Warden noted. "We need to get moving before they show up."

The two men had spent the better part of the day facing off against darkspawn. The deeper they ventured down the small passage the more of the hideous things they found. It seemed there was no end to them. But, according to the map, there journey was almost over.

The tunnel had already begun to ascend steeply and both of them knew the surface was not far away. Already faint light could be seen as it reflected off the smooth, shiny walls of the passage. The air began to grow crisp and cold; their breath erupting in white puffs from their mouths and nostrils. And finally, after trudging through miles of darkness and wading through hordes of darkspawn, the opening of the shaft came into view. The men emerged, shielding their eyes as they were bathed in sunlight for the first time in days. When his vision was clear again, The Warden could at last make out where they were.

Snow reflected the bright sunlight in scattered patches about him. The rest was barren rock, black and charred. In front of him a path continued, past a relatively flat section on the mountain, and then continuing up the rocky slope in the form of a staircase that was carved from the cliff face itself, some fifty or so yards distant.

At the very top, a large black temple rested. It had an ominous appearance to it. The entrance was lined with tall, black marble columns which were decorated with detailed carvings that depicted dragons, demons, and other monstrous beasts. Obelisks with strange markings were set on either side of the path approaching and the building was capped with an onyx dome that sparkled in the Sun.

"Looks cozy enough." Alistair said with a smirk.

"Let's go take a closer look and make sure." The Warden replied.

"I was afraid you were going to say that."

Various broken skeletal remains dotted the surrounding area as the duo marched up the path and to the stairs. A cold fog flowed down the steps, covering the feet of the men. The air was still and quiet, the only sounds being the footfalls of The Warden and Alistair as they slowly climbed the many steps to the summit and the dark temple that awaited.


	13. Chapter 13

**Part XIII**

There was only one time where Leliana could remember Morrigan getting really angry with The Warden. Not like the little tiffs that the two normally had, but really really angry. It was the one time that the bard knew of where the witch had lost her composure. That's how mad she was.

It happened just after Leliana and Morrigan executed a daring rescue to set both The Warden and Alistair free from Lord Howe's dungeon. The Warden had given up without a fight and allowed himself to be arrested, along with Alistair. The two women managed to work together long enough to actually succeed in rescuing the men. It was afterward, back at Arl Eamon's manor, where Morrigan errupted.

The Warden, Alistair, Arl Eamon, and Bann Teagan were all gathered, discussing the matters at hand and how best to deal with them. Leliana spied Morrigan as she entered the room, angrily stomping, and approached The Warden.

"I would speak with you." she told The Warden.

"It'll have to wait. I'll be with you as soon as I can." The Warden replied.

"Perhaps I phrased the sentence improperly and you did not understand. Permit me to try again." She said with her arms folded and her foot tapping. "I would speak with you _now_."

"Excuse me a minute. I'll be right back." The Warden said as he excused himself and he and the witch walked across the hall to a vacant room. The bard watched as Morrigan paused by the doorway allowing him to enter first. The witch entered after him, grabbing the door and shutting it with a slam that caught the attention of everyone in the manor.

The witch made no attempts at keeping her voice down and Leliana could clearly hear Morrigan yelling, "What were you thinking?! Have you a deathwish?" at the trapped man. She continued to yell and shout and him, telling him what a completely moronic stunt letting himself get captured was and how such recklessness could easily have him killed. Her lungs never seemed to tire, nor her voice go hoarse as she told the man what an idiotic ass he was and how she was better served not wasting her time with him.

It seemed to go on forever. But at last, when it was over, the two emerged from the room. She with red, puffy eyes and a fuming look. And he with a small grin that seemed strangely out of place.

"Do not mock me." The witch said to him as he attempted to return to his meeting.

"I'm not mocking you. I was being serious. It's nice to know you really care."

"Insufferable ass." was all the witch would say.

The look Morrigan had in her eyes now was nothing like the one she had that night. She looked worried and desperate, like she was about to lose something very valuable to her. She was afraid someone special would be far more mad than she had ever been and hate her for what she had done.

Leliana watched as two young dwarven men carried the mabari into the house. A gasp escaped the bard when she saw Morrigan's blood-stained cloak. The witch swung her arm across the wooden table in the den shoving many objects to the floor. The men lifted the mabari with a grunt and laid him on the table.

"I need bandages now, Leliana! Hurry!" The witch shouted with desperation.

The bard stood still, blankly staring at the animal on the table. Her mind not yet coming to grips with what was happening.

"Leliana!" Morrigan said again, louder.

The bard snapped to and looked at the witch upon hearing her name a second time.

"Bandages! Hurry!" the witch repeated.

"Right!" Leliana confirmed as she headed up the stairs to retrieve the stack of bandages from her satchel.

It wasn't long before the bard had located the bandages and headed back. She ran down the stairs and when she arrived in the den she was greeted by the sight of the dog lying on his side on the table with Morrigan kneeling next to him, covered in blood. She was frantically trying to stop the bleeding and not having much luck.

"Bring those to me." the witch said upon seeing the bard's return. Turning to the two dwarves she said, "Thank you gentlemen, you're services are no longer required."

They acknowledged Morrigan with a nod and quietly saw themselves out.

The cloak was flung to the floor, making a sloppy mess as it landed. The witch quickly replaced it with the entire stack of bandages as fast as she could. Still, some blood managed to escape and it trickled across the table, some dripping on the floor.

"Hold here." Morrigan said to Leliana, taking the bard's hand and placing it on the stack.

The witch then rushed off up the stairs. A faint rustling could be heard and before long the with reappeared down the stairs with a small leather pouch in her hand.

"What happened?" Leliana finally got the chance to ask.

"Wretched templars." was all the witch would offer, but Leliana got the message.

Morrigan removed several small jars of balm and a sewing kit from the pouch, which she placed on the table next to the mabari. She caressed the dog's head and whispered, "You shall not die on me. Do you understand? You are not _allowed_ to die."

The only reply the beast could muster was a weak whimper.

"He saved my life." Morrigan said as she lightly stroked the mabari, "The templar's blade was meant for me."

It took some time before the blood would stop flowing from the beast's deep wound. His breathing became labored and erratic. The mighty hound lay on the table, too weak to even move as Morrigan took some salve and applied it gingerly to the open gash. She then took a needle from the sewing kit and a length of thick string. After letting the needle soak in a small glass of dwarven whiskey, the witch threaded the string through the needle and proceeded to stitch the wound closed. If Morrigan was causing Leo pain, he was made no sign of it as he lay there limp and still. After she had finished the witch dressed the injury using one of The Warden's shirt's as a bandage since that was all she had left.

"You are very good at that. You have some experience." Leliana said as she watched over the witch's shoulder.

"There is need of such knowledge when one lives in the wilds." Morrigan replied.

All that was left to do now was wait, which happened to be the hardest part of all.

* * *

"I think the purpose of all these stairs...is to give you a heart-attack...before you even reach the top." Alistair said, with much labored breath.

"So...it would seem." The Warden concurred, taking in large gulps of air..

The air was far thinner up this high, and there were many steps yet to go before The Warden and Alistair reached the summit. The climbing so far had been difficult, to say the least. The steps were coated with a substance that made them black and slick. One false move could send either man toppling down hundreds of feet to his death. But with each step the men drew closer to the black temple that rested at the peak of the mountain.

As the two reached the top of the staircase they noticed a long walkway lined with black-marble columns on either side leading all the way to the entrance which was a set of large wooden doors. They made their way down the path and up the the main doors.

The doors looked as if they hadn't been used in years. Heavy iron hinges held the doors in place, but they had become rusted from neglect. There were no handles on the door of any kind, no visible means of opening them from the outside. The doors themselves were still very sturdy despite their apparent age and would not budge as the men tried to force them open.

Scanning the immediate area for any possible means to gain entrance, The men discovered two pairs of stone dials that were set in the stone walls on either side of the door, about thirty feet apart from each other. On the ground, beneath each set of dials, there were many blood stains. Above each pair were large racks of sharp spikes, suspended in place by chain and obviously rigged to spring and mercilessly crush anyone unfortunate enough to be standing beneath. The purpose of the entire setup was clear: Use the dials to open the door or get killed trying.

The Warden closely examined the dials, noting that each was circled by five symbols that were unique to each one. He recognized one of the symbols on each dial, as they had been carved into the obelisks that lined the walkway, but the others were completely foreign to him. On each dial was an line the seemed to be a selection indicator. They were otherwise blank.

"What do you think?" he asked Alistair who was equally puzzled.

"I don't know. Try turning them to the symbols that were on the obelisks, maybe?" The king replied with a shrug.

Going to each dial, The Warden turned them to the corresponding symbols. As soon as he finished with the last one there was the sound of something metallic being released. With a screeching slide, the spiked rack above him was dropped. The Warden quickly dove out of the way, but wasn't quite fast enough as one of the rusted tips caught his leg, slicing it open. Grabbing his calf, The Warden cried out in agony as the blood began to flow freely.

"Maker's Breath!" Alistair exclaimed as he ran toward his friend.

"I guess that wasn't it." The Warden said as he lie on the ground, clenching his calf.

There was a loud racheting sound and the rack began to ascend to it's original position and reset with a loud "clank". The dials began spinning wildly, stopping themselves after a few seconds to randomly set.

The Warden finished tightly wrapping his wound, cutting off the excess wrapping and placing it back in his pack. He braced himself against the wall as he tried to stand with Alistair assisting.

"Shall we try this again?" He questioned, rhetorically.

"Are you sure you're up to it?" The king inquired with concern, "I don't think you're in any shape to jump out of the way if you get it wrong again."

"Then I'll just have to make sure I get it right this time."

The Warden looked at the racks as they hung by their chains. He noted that only the rack over his head had fallen. That meant the device had a way of determining which dial had been turned last. He reasoned that the other rack would have fallen had he been on the other side. Tracing the chains, he saw a gear over each set of spikes with a metal peg thrust through a hole in the side. Halfway between the racks, a pulley was mounted on the ceiling with a length of chain wrapped around it. The peg was pulled from it's place when he turned the last dial, The Warden figured. That would release the gear and allow the spikes to fall.

Then The Warden noticed something odd. No matter how many times he followed the chain with his eyes, he always came up with the same result. Both racks used the same chain. That meant the chain was only long enough for one set of spikes to touch the ground at a time. The other rack must have been pulled upward when the one over his head fell. He just hadn't noticed it.

"We have to do both sides at the same time." he told Alistair.

"What? Are you sure?" the king said as he anxiously looked up at the rows of deadly spikes . "Trust me." was all The Warden replied.

Both men positioned themselves in front of a set of dials. On The Warden's count they turned all four dials simultaneously. There was the same sound of something being released and the same screeching slide. Alistair and The Warden crouched and cowered as the spikes began to fall once again.

But before both sets of deadly barbs could find their intended victims, they ran out of chain, snapping to a stop several feet from the ground. They sat suspended in mid air, dangling just above the heads of the flinching men. The large wooden door was pulled open with a loud slam, giving access to the inside of the temple.

"I think I just shit myself." Alistair said, his voice trembling.

Taking a moment to settle themselves before going further, the pair eyed the dark entrance carefully. No light source of any kind could be seen beyond the open doors and all was eerily still and quiet. The Warden took a torch from his pack and lit it, holding it before him as the two men passed through the door and into the temple.

They found themselves in a large, open, and circular chamber, the firelight faintly reflecting off the walls as it cast dancing shadows. There was a small trough sticking out that ran the length of the walls about five feet off the ground. Inside was a channel that contained a dark, oily liquid. The Warden touched the tip of his torch to the fluid, igniting it.

Flames streaked around the room, flooding it with light, and revealing hidden contents. In the center of chamber was a set of black marble stairs leading up to a large obsidian altar. Resting on top was a large metal chest that was covered in many arcane markings and symbols. On the far side of the room was a statue of a muscular behemoth, some twelve feet tall. It's massive arms as thick as a man's trunk. The flickering shadows made the statue seem even more ominous.

"I don't like that look of that." Alistair commented as he stared at the statue, "Good thing it's made of marble."

The Warden quickly made his way up the steps and approached the chest, filled with anticipation. He ran his fingers over the chest lightly, inspecting for traps, finding none. With a quick flip of the latch the chest opened, revealing three perfectly round spheres of different sizes, all blood red in color.

"It's the orbs!" The Warden said excitedly.

"Quick! Grab them and put them in the bag."

"Wait. Morrigan said something about only those possessed of the taint can touch them."

"Like darkspawn." Alistair noted.

"And Grey Wardens." The Warden added, "I should be able to take these."

"And what if you're wrong?"

"Let's hope I'm not." The Warden said as he reached inside the chest and took the Orbs of Arastani from their place.

The king winced as he braced for the inevitable doom that was about to come at any second. But as the seconds slowly ticked by, no doom came. Alistair slowly opened his eyes the see The Warden was still standing and still breathing as he placed the orbs in a sack and tied it closed.

"What was that?" The Warden asked as he listened intently.

"I hear it, too." Alistair said as the two men tried to locate the sound visually.

It sounded like something was slowly cracking and being split. Both men continued to look for the source of the sounds, scanning for anything out of the ordinary. Against the far wall, pieces of marble fell to the floor from the statue, landing on the floor with great racket, revealing muscled flesh beneath. The thin stone skin that covered the creature was falling away leaving behind a flesh and blood behemoth.

* * *

The mabari had survived the night. That was the good news. But he was still very weak, lying still in the soft bed Morrigan and Leliana made for him. His breathing was better, but not much. He had not had anything to drink, refusing to even make the effort, which concerned the witch greatly.

She was hopeful that the dog would make a full recovery, but knew he needed to keep his strength up in order to do so. She had kept the wound clean as best she could, taking great care to keep the area free of infection. Still, it would be many days before Leo was well enough to move and Morrigan was going to have to find a way to get the beast to take food and drink.

Since the attack, the women had hardly spoken to one another. Instead of the usual chatter of arguing filling the air, there was silence. Both Leliana and Morrigan were so focused on the dog's welfare that they worked in unison to care for him, without even noticing. The Warden had always known that the two women would make a great team, if only they'd stop arguing long enough to see it.

They had never gotten along, Leliana and Morrigan. The women had been bitter rivals since they first met in Lothering. Morrigan had never been one for The Chantry, they're views being somewhat limited and restrictive to her. So when The Warden accepted Leliana into the group the witch was less than pleased about it, seeing the flame haired sister as more of a liability than an asset. At the time she greatly questioned the wisdom of his actions.

As the days progressed, she and The Warden began to get closer. Morrigan had caught his eye and she fully enjoyed the game that ensued. He lavished her with attention, something that she normally abhorred from men. But she willingly accepted it, surprising even herself. He openly pursued her, drawing the ire of the rest of the party, especially the bard. It seemed as if the witch barely had to put forth any effort at all. He was always there, beside her.

The bard would watch the pair with cold, jealous eyes, the witch remembered, Leliana's obvious desire for The Warden clearly visible. She wanted so badly to catch his attention, but all he ever saw was Morrigan, much to the bard's continued dismay. The witch would often smile privately to herself when she thought of all the discomfort Leliana was experiencing over the matter. But then something happened, something unforeseen. Without Morrigan having noticed, the game had suddenly gotten serious.

She found herself caring for The Warden. What they had turned into something far more than just a casual fling. She felt herself wanting to be around him, near him. Morrigan had never been in a relationship of any kind before. Everything was so new and foreign to her. It was both terrifying and exciting. The only thing the witch knew was that she had to have more. But they could never be together. Morrigan had a job to do and that took precedence over all else, even him.

Even with that knowledge, she couldn't stop herself. It tore at her incessantly. Morrigan begged The Warden repeatedly to end it and free her because she lacked the strength to do it herself. He refused, leaving her trapped in limbo. And just as she knew it would, the time came for her to fulfill her duty. She would never be able to see him again, or so she intended. But, as always, he seemed to change the rules of the game.

He had found her. And even though he found out what she did, he forgave her. Clearly this was no ordinary man. Certainly not like the men Flemeth told her about. Living in the wilds presented few opportunities for her to meet many other men, and those she did meet were always of the type Flemeth had described. Morrigan was convinced that the old hag was right about men being after only one treasure; the one she hid between her thighs.

But she and The Warden had shared no physical intimacy during most of their time together during the Blight. The inner turmoil which consumed the witch caused her to deny him. Still, however, he did not leave her and he would not relinquish her heart. She was completely baffled. He stood by her, patiently waiting for her to open up to him. Morrigan, at last, understood. It was about _her,_ not what she could give him or do for him. He accepted her completely just as she was.

That meant she was going to try to accept him as he was, including who his friends were. Even the bard. She had continually grilled Leliana since The Warden's departure, looking for any sign of deceit on the bard's part. She could find none. There was no doubting the bard's attraction for The Warden, yet she made no efforts to act on it. The witch found this to be extremely odd. After all, had it been the other way around, Morrigan would have stopped at nothing to achieve her goal. Yet, Leliana did nothing, even after having been given ample opportunity.

All The Warden saw in her was a friend. At first Morrigan thought he was lying to her when he said he never understood why she got so upset when he was with Leliana. How could he have not seen how much she wanted him? Eventually the witch was convinced of his words and came to believe he genuinely had no clue about the situation. The entire thing put Morrigan at an uneasy crossroads. She could spy on them, but that would require great effort and risk. Or she could do something impossible. She could trust him. The witch wasn't thrilled with the idea, but decided to at least try to trust him. If for no other reason than to repay some of the things The Warden had done for her.

Falling in love. Learning to trust. Morrigan wondered what these people were doing to her. Flemeth had painted a far different picture of humanity, and while those traits were visible to the witch, the people whom she had come in contact with since leaving the wild proved that was not always so. While she earnestly felt some of those in her company were misguided, she didn't think them weak. To the contrary, they had shown themselves to be quite strong when the need arose.

Morrigan had made precious few compromises since meeting The Warden. They had done most things her way. To suit her needs. Not because he was weak, but because he was patient. Because he saw something more to her than she saw in herself. It was safe for her the way it was but it couldn't be like that anymore. He was trying to build something more with her. And that scared the witch terribly. But she knew she wanted to be with him and had committed too much of herself to turn back. Now she was going to be the one to take risks. She was going to do something that was so completely alien to her that she had a hard time believing it herself. She was going to try to get along with Leliana. Not just to please him, however, she also needed the bard's help.

* * *

The lumbering monster roared as it jumped down from it's pedestal. Alistair and The Warden looked at each other in disbelief. The brute was massive. It's sickly, purple-gray skin covered layer upon layer of powerful muscles. The beast seemed almost simian in nature, with it's enlarged torso and stubby legs.

The men made for the stairs in the middle of the room and hid next to them. The ground shook as the behemoth stomped across the floor, approaching the pair.

"By The Maker!" Alistair exclaimed. "Tell me you have a plan."

"Don't get killed." The Warden replied.

The Warden quickly looked the entire chamber over, looking for anything he could use. But the room was mostly empty, save for the stairs, altar, the two men, and the behemoth.

"Quick! Distract him!" The Warden yelled to the king.

"Are you mad?!"

The marble railing on the staircase suddenly shattered into chunks as the pedestal the behemoth had been standing on came smashing through, having been flung by the creature. The duo had to quickly duck to dodge the debris.

"Hurry!" The Warden shouted.

"You owe me for this one." the king responded as he ran out from behind the cover of the stairs and attracting the beast's attention. The creature immediately began chase with a thunderous roar.

The Warden ran up the stairs, to the altar. He slammed the metal chest on top shut and climbed on top of it. He turned to watch Alistair unwisely attempt to block the monster's blow with his shield. The result sending the king sailing through the air with a yell, landing on his backside.

"Lead him this way!" The Warden shouted.

With barely a second to spare, Alistair was able to jump out of the way of the beasts huge fist as it slammed the ground. The king jumped up and ran towards The Warden's position with the behemoth in close pursuit.

As they ran past, The Warden leaped from the altar and grabbed the beast around the neck from behind. The behemoth roared fiercely as it tried to reach back and grab the unwanted passenger. The Warden reached down and pulled his blade from it's sheath. He raised it high over his head and thrust it deep into the behemoth's neck.

Dark green blood spewed forth from the gash as The Warden released his grip and dropped to the ground. The creature tried to cover it's neck, filling the air with wailing shrieks of pain. It stumbled and fell to the ground with a loud crash.

"Next time..." Alistair said as he bent over and rested his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath, "you get to be the bait."

"Deal." The Warden said, grinning. "Now let's get these orbs back."

"So, what exactly do you intend to do with them?"

"I don't know. The main thing is that Flemeth doesn't have them. So I'll keep them safe and out of sight."

"Kind of like they were already?" the king replied with his usual sarcasm.

"Ha Ha." The Warden responded dryly.

The hard part was over, but The Warden and Alistair would still have to make it back through the darkspawn that lie in the Deep Roads in order to get back to Orzammar with their prize. Considering The Warden was still very much hobbled by his injury, the return trip was going to be especially rough. But there was no other course, so the men made preparations to head back into the Deep Roads.


	14. Chapter 14

**Part XIV**

There was reason to hope after all. The mabari had taken his first drink since being injured by the templar's blade two days earlier. He was still extremely weak and needed Morrigan to hold the dish of water up to him. But at least he drank from it. That was a start. Encouraged, the witch prepared Leo a small bit of food. As before, she held a small morsel to the animal. This, however, he wouldn't touch.

The wound was healing, albeit slowly. Morrigan did her best to keep it clean and changed the dressing regularly, cutting up more than a few of The Warden's shirts to do so. But that was the least of her worries when The Warden would finally return. The dog was special to him. He had known the beast far longer than he had known anyone else in the party. The Warden had raised Leo from a small pup and in the lonely corridors of Cousland Castle, he had few other companions which he could chose to spend his time with.

At the very least, The Warden was going to be furious with the witch, of that she was convinced. How could she have been so careless with something so valuable to him? Whatever his first words to her would be upon his return, they were definitely not going to be of the heart-warming variety.

But it went much further than that. The witch, herself, was closer to the animal than she would ever openly admit. The beast was special to her as well and she would never forgive herself if Leo wasn't able to recover. A simple dog had shown great valor and bravery. He had leaped in front of the templar's blade and saved Morrigan's life. A mere animal did what the witch herself would never have done. He had selflessly valued someone else's life over his own. She wondered if that made the dog better than her and it bothered her greatly.

The witch and the bard spent most of their time tending to the mabari and rarely left his side. Seth seemed to understand what was going on as he remained quiet most of the time while his mother attended to Leo's needs. The infant often appeared to be able to tell his mother's mood, not that the witch's current mood was hard to guess. Even Leliana noticed and had expressed concern, expecting to receive the usual "'Tis nothing" from the witch.

But instead Morrigan resisted the urge to bottle herself up. There were no other women at all for her to talk to and she desperately needed a woman's perspective. The witch had misjudged too many things, people, motherhood, love, and was not about to do so again. In her world Flemeth's teachings had proven more than sufficient. She knew exactly how everything worked and what to expect. But she wasn't in her world anymore, she was in his. And here she was a struggling infant in need of guidance.

"In truth, there are things that greatly trouble me." Morrigan said, "I find myself in need of your advice."

"My advice?" the bard questioned, greatly surprised.

"Yes. As odd as that may sound. I understand that you and I have not gotten along and that I should expect no such favors from you. Still, the matter weighs on me heavily and I've made so many costly mistakes already I dare not risk another."

"Is this about you and Dwemer?"

Morrigan nodded affirmative.

Leliana thought about telling the witch no. Morrigan had no right to ask her for help with anything, not after the way the witch had treated her. Besides, this was probably another of the witch's games and there was no point in it. But that would go against Leliana's nature, she had always given The Warden her ear when needed, and as a member of The Chantry she was fairly sure there was a rule that priests had to give out advice when asked. But she wasn't completely positive.

Leliana took a deep breath and let out a sigh. "I don't know how I can help. But I'll try." the bard said.

"Thank you, truly." Morrigan replied.

The two women talked at length over the nature of Morrigan's problem. The witch confessed of her lack of experience with men and how unsure she was as to how to best talk to The Warden. She explained that while Flemeth did use her as bait to snare unwary men, never had these victims shared her bed. Those experiences constituted nearly all of her contact with the opposite sex.

"Dwemer was your first?" Leliana inquired, amazed.

"Not the first, no. But not far from it." the witch admitted, "Out of curiosity, I once enticed a man to my bed on one of my forays into the human world. The experience left much to be desired. Some time later I tried once more, with nearly identical results. Before meeting Dwemer, those encounters comprised the sum of my knowledge."

"Is that a problem for him?"

"He is the most patient man I've ever seen. If it something that displeases him, he has made no sign of it."

"I don't understand. What's the problem, then?"

"Sooner or later his patience with me will wane. He asks more of me, and while I am willing, I am...unsure."

"What more is he asking?" Leliana questioned.

"He seeks to make our arrangement permanent. He wishes that I become his wife." Morrigan answered.

"And that scares you?"

"It terrifies me. Would I even be fit to be such a thing?"

"It scares everyone. But I think you can handle it." the bard noted.

"Why so?" The witch asked, raising and eyebrow.

"I don't think any of us ever saw you as a mother either and yet you turned out to be very good at it."

It was on odd scene, to say the least. Morrigan talked and Leliana listened. These two, who had been the most bitter of rivals, were actually sharing private matters with each other. The hate melted away as each saw the other in a different light for the first time. The witch was starting to see why The Warden had consulted the bard on occasion. And rather than the manipulative witch Leliana normally saw, Morrigan presented a softer side. She was a woman that was afraid of making a mistake and ruining everything.

The bard proved to be quite helpful and insightful when she spoke. She assured the witch that many women do indeed lose their heads when it came to matters of the heart. Morrigan had simply been playing the part of a woman in love. In the end, Leliana advised Morrigan to try something else that was totally new to the witch; following her heart. They were the words that the witch least wanted to hear. There was a time when Morrigan would have laughed at the absurdity of such notions, but not anymore. The witch wasn't even sure if she knew how to "follow her heart". Her stomach stayed twisted in knots constantly and she was seriously beginning to wonder what she had gotten herself into.

* * *

The return trip for The Warden and Alistair was taking slightly longer than they anticipated and they wouldn't be back to Orzammar until sometime early the next day. They had not only been slowed by waves of darkspawn, but by The Warden's injury as well. The gash on his calf had been giving him some difficulty. It was becoming inflamed and extremely sore. He had changed the dressing and tried to wash out the wound, but without success.

Whatever his ailments were, however, they did not affect him in battle. The Warden attacked the darkspawn viciously and relentlessly. He had found his prize and he wasn't going to let anything get in his way. He had to take the orbs back to Morrigan. She would know far better what to do with them than he. If that meant wading through the entire darkspawn horde to do so, then so be it. His blade would cut down as many of the evil beasts as it took.

The only other time Alistair could remember such determination on The Warden's face was at The Battle of Denerim. On that day The Warden was so focused on slaying the archdemon that he mowed down the ranks of darkspawn sent before him almost effortlessly. Even their generals felt the sting of his blade in their bellies. When they finally faced the archdemon, The Warden showed no mercy. The great beast actually fled from him, but The Warden would not have it and he reigned down a shower of arrows on the creature causing it to drop to the ground. The Warden then delivered the death blow, releasing the trapped god that lay within.

There in the Deep Roads, Alistair could see that same glint in The Warden's eye, and it scared him just as it had it Denerim. The Warden had been known to be a bit too overconfident in his abilities and it had gotten him into trouble on more than one occasion. Like the time he battled the Sloth Demon alone while his comrades remained trapped in other parts of the Fade. If it hadn't been for the raw lyrium recharges he would have been crushed. But as usual, luck was on his side and he somehow managed to slay the demon. That level of luck was bound to run out eventually, Alistair thought. He hoped there was at least enough of it left to get them safely out of the Deep Roads.

There was no disguising The Warden's limp in his gate from the injury. Still, he refused to stop to rest or even slow down. The physical toll it was taking on him was was becoming more visible with each passing hour. The color from his skin was fading and his eyes appeared dull and lifeless. Sweat continually poured off The Warden and his breathing was labored as his mouth hung open to take in large gasps of air. No matter how horrible The Warden was starting to look, he would tell Alistair he was fine whenever asked, though the king knew his friend was lying. Any further inquiries by the king where met with the same response. "We have to make it back to Orzammar. I have to tell Morrigan something." was all The Warden would offer. What exactly it was he had to tell her, The Warden wouldn't say. But from the urgency he showed, it was apparently of high importance. At least to The Warden anyway. But it was often like that.

Fortunately the men were nearing the end of the long passageway and were about to enter the main caverns of the Deep Roads. That meant the darkspawn would finally begin the thin and encounters with the monstrous beasts would be far more infrequent for the rest of the journey. Which was very much to the king's liking. He was starting to get very worried about his friend as The Warden seemed to grow more sickly and weak with each step he took. He was sweating profusely in the cool underground air and there was little doubt he was starting to become feverish. It was only a few more hours until they reached the dwarven mines, and the gates to the city beyond, but Alistair feared his friend would not last long enough to finish the trek.

It wasn't long before the pair reached the limits of the dwarven patrols, leaving the darkspawn threat behind them. And as they drew closer to Orzammar, The Warden even seemed to get some spring back into his step. It was the same as he had done each time Morrigan stayed behind. The nearer he got to his witch, the stronger his steps would become. She was like an elixir to him, Alistair noted. After days of being gone on some dangerous mission, each time the duo returned The Warden would rapidly pick up his pace the closer to her he got, anticipating their reunion.

By the time the men got to Caridin's Cross, their pace had quickened to a rapid walk. And while The Warden bore a strong resemblance to the walking dead as he shambled through the passages, he did not allow it to deter him. Their encounters with dwarves grew as they got closer to the city, all of them starring oddly at the putrid looking man who was very nearly running through the passageways.

* * *

Leo's recovery was coming along far better than the witch had hoped. While the mabari was still very weak, he was at least raising his head and had even eaten a small amount. There was reason to think that the dog was going to survive his brush with death. But that did little to stifle the fears Morrigan had. The Warden would be returning at any time and when he saw what she had done to his oldest friend he was sure to never want to speak to her again. So she nervously awaited his arrival with mixed emotions.

As much as Leliana tried to convince the witch that The Warden would not blame her for the mabari's condition, it did no good. The same feelings that consumed Morrigan the night before The Battle of Denerim, filled the witch once more; the feeling of knowing her time with The Warden was drawing to a close. It filled her with dread. She greatly hoped the bard was right and even tried to make herself believe it, but it would never last for long. Eventually Morrigan's thoughts would always drift back to the guilt she felt and his certain anger with her.

And then it happened. The front door swung open to reveal The Warden and Alistair. He had returned to her, but something was wrong. He was soaked with sweat, his skin was pale, and his eyes had lost their sparkle. Around his left calf was a bandage that seeped blood. It was clear he was having difficulty even standing.

"Dwemer!" Morrigan exclaimed as she quickly made her way to the door.

He staggered inside, looked at her with a weak smile, and then collapsed to the floor. The witch rushed to his side and crouched down beside him. She instructed Leliana and Alistair to help her carry The Warden up the stairs and rest him in the bed. He was still covered in his custom drake scale armor that, while not as heavy as metal plate, still added greatly to his girth and made it cumbersome for his comrades to carry him. The witch began hastily removing the many pieces of his armor as soon as he was laid in the bed, tossing each expensive and unique bit aside. She unwrapped the now disgusting bandage from his wounded calf exposing a gash that had become rancid and festered. Once more Morrigan retrieved her small kit of medicinal supplies and went to work mending The Warden.

The world took some time to come into focus as The Warden slowly opened his eyes. He recognized the room as being the master bed chamber of the small house in The Commons that he was briefly leasing. He was lying in the bed wearing his bed shorts and his leg had been re-bandaged with some of the bandages from his pack. To his surprise, it was not his witch that stood over him, but Leliana instead. Her hands were clasped and rested in front of her and she looked worried about something.

"Leliana?" The Warden managed to speak, but he was still weak and it took a good deal of effort.

"Thank The Maker! You're finally awake!" the bard exclaimed.

"Awake? What happened?" He asked with a groggy voice.

"You've been unconscious for the past two days. You had fallen very ill due to your injury and we were afraid you would never wake up."

The Warden gathered all of the strength he could and managed to raise himself to a sitting position. "Where's Morrigan?" he questioned.

"She's down stairs tending to Leo."

Confusion came across The Warden's face. "Tending to Leo? Why? What's wrong with him?" he asked as he started to push himself out of the bed, his arms shaking terribly under his weight.

"What do you think you are doing?" Leliana asked as she placed her hands on her hips.

"I need to see him."

"Oh no you don't. It took all three of us to carry you up here and I'm not doing that again."

"Leliana..." he said, looking right at her.

"You're not going to listen to me, are you?" The bard let out a long sigh and decided to assist him instead. She lifted his arm and positioned herself beneath, wrapping his arm over her shoulders, behind the neck. With a grunt she was able to help him stand, but he was very wobbly and needed to lean against her to maintain his balance.

The pair slowly made their way down the stairs and into the den, where he saw Morrigan kneeling beside the mabari, lightly petting him. On the dog's side was a line of stitches that had been sewn, closing a rather nasty wound that had to be several inches wide. The animal's head was up and was alert, but he was obviously weakened and injured. Leo noticed his master and let out an excited bark, the beasts spirits instantly improving.

The witch swung around to see The Warden and Leliana at the base of the stairs, his arm draped across her shoulder. "'Tis good to see your fever has finally broken." she said in a cordial tone. She wore a blank expression, showing as little as she could. Leliana assisted The Warden to one of the small sofas so he could sit next to his dog.

The bard excused herself so Morrigan and The Warden could be alone. It was the first time the witch knew of that she actually wished Leliana had stayed, her eyes following the bard as she left the room. Morrigan was anxious and her stomach was doing flips. She was trying to brace herself for his wrath but kept failing. The guilt had been gnawing at her for days and she was nearing the breaking point. She watched him as he leaned over and placed his forehead against the mabari's head, closing his eyes. "What happened?" He asked.

"Twas my folly that caused the beast to be injured." Morrigan replied. She reached over to him and placed her hand on his shoulder. "We were attacked by templars outside the city gates. He stepped in front of a blade meant for me. I did not see it because I had gotten careless."

"Are you alright?" He asked as he turned to face her.

"I am unhurt." She said softly, almost as if the witch were ashamed of that fact.

The Warden's focus returned to Leo, as he scratched the animal behind the ears muttering "That's a good boy, Leo." the beasts little stub of a tail wagging ferociously. "And the templars?" he inquired.

"They were all destroyed." Morrigan said. She was finding it impossible to look him in the eyes. She could only manage quick glances at him, trying to gauge his mood. "I am sorry I failed you." she finally said.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, surprised.

"Twas my negligence that lead to Leo's wounds and he was nearly killed while under my care. I know how important he is to you. I beg you...forgive me."

"Forgive you for what? I left him here to _watch you_. If anyone is to blame it's me for leaving you alone. I should have known something would happen."

"You did what you must. The orbs needed retrieving. I, however, have no excuse for my actions."

He took the witch's hands in his, squeezing them gently while he stared into her hypnotic golden eyes. "_You_ are what's important to me. You and Seth mean more to me than anything."

"You are not upset with me, then?" she asked, at last finding the strength to look him in the eye.

"Why would I be mad at you? I'm grateful Leo did what he did. I don't know what I'd do if something ever happened to you. Do you remember the promise I made to you the last time we were at your mother's hut?"

"You promised to always be there to protect me." Morrigan recalled.

"I meant that when I said it. And something almost happened to you because I wasn't here to make good on that promise. I'm the one who failed you, and for that I'm sorry." The Warden said to her as his hands slowly traced up her arms. He raised his hand to softly caress her cheek with his fingers. "Morrigan..." he said to her, "I love you, too."

Relief and joy filled the witch as she moved closer to him, and threw her arms around The Warden, squeezing him as tight as she could. The bard had been right after all. Perhaps she had been right about the other things as well. But those sorts of things would have to wait. The most pressing matter was the orbs and what to do with them.

While The Warden was battling fever, Morrigan had taken the orbs and stowed them away. When The Warden asked her what she was going to do the witch replied that she intended to study the orbs and figure out their secrets. He thought the best thing to do was to smash them into small fragments and be done with it. Flemeth couldn't get them if they had been destroyed, he reasoned. But the witch felt that course of action was both unwise and hazardous. Destroying the orbs could have unforeseen consequences, Morrigan informed, and they simply couldn't be handled that way. There was great power contained in the artifacts and smashing them would most likely be deadly to the person who did so. It could even go so far as to permanently tear the veil between the mortal realm and the Fade, allowing all sorts of monstrosities access to the mortal plane.

Morrigan had another reason for wanting to keep the orbs intact as well. The power that lay dormant in her son would have to be removed someday. If not, then the child would be at risk, more so the older he got. Either the entity would claim her son, or it's power destroy him. Morrigan wasn't about to let either of those two scenarios play out. And once she explained her reasons to him, The Warden reluctantly agreed as well.

So as long as they had the orbs there was the ever present danger of Flemeth's return. The Warden had bested her once before in battle, he was sure he could do so again. But he made no illusions about it to himself. The Warden knew the rules of the game were completely changed and taking down the old demon was going to be the hardest thing he'd ever done.

Whatever plans he made, though, he'd have to make them on the move. Now that he had returned with the orbs it was time for him and Morrigan to keep their promise to Alistair and go back to Denerim with the king. It was time to face The Templars openly and bring the entire situation to a close. That meant going back and rounding up as much political muscle as they could gather. With Arl Eamon, Bann Teagan, and most of the Bannorn behind them, Alistair and The Warden should be able to get even the mighty Chantry to make concessions.

It would still be several days before either the mabari or The Warden were fit for travel, even though both were showing marked improvement. Morrigan scolded The Warden about not properly caring for his injury as she had taught him to do. She used Leo's clean and well cared for wound as an example to drive the point home. She insisted he would not have been near death when he returned from the Deep Roads had he only heeded her advice. Only by some small miracle did he manage to make it back. He did not argue the point.

On the next day a courier appeared at the door with a message from Captain Derik. He was apparently camped at the front gates to Orzammar and awaited Alistair's arrival. Arl Eamon requested he return to Denerim immediately and he had brought enough horses with him for all the party members, save Leo, to facilitate the matter. That posed a significant problem in that the mabari was still far too weak to travel, especially the long walk across all Ferelden to reach Denerim which lie on the eastern coast. Having the dog ride on the back of one of the horses was no better option as Leo's wound was still delicate and could be ripped back open by the constant jostling of a horse's movements.

The only thing The Warden could think to do was attempt to buy one of the merchant's small carts that lined the outside of the gates to the city. The task turned out to be more daunting than The Warden figured as he went from merchant to merchant and each rejected his offer, no matter how many sovereigns he offered. Their carts were their livelihood. They were more than just cargo haulers to the traders, they were businesses and temporary homes. The Warden very nearly gave up his search when he happened upon a human merchant names Zane who's cart was empty, having sold all his wares. He agreed to sell his cart to The Warden for an obscene amount of coin, which The Warden paid, though he grumbled about it.

He hooked up one of the extra horses to the cart that the captain had brought with him and then placed the mabari inside atop a pile of blankets. Morrigan and the child accompanied Leo in the cart as the group at last set off for Denerim, Alistair having already sent a message ahead to the Arl informing him on the situation and telling him to be ready for a fight with The Chantry when he returned.

They had found the orbs, but that was only the beginning. Flemeth would know that The Warden possessed the orbs and come for them. He didn't know what her plan was or when she would appear, and he hated playing her pawn. He half-wished she would show herself, just to get it over with. But that wasn't how Flemeth did things. She liked to toy with her prey before she pounced for the kill. And he feared when she did strike he would never see it coming.


	15. Chapter 15

**Part ** **XV**

The trip back to Denerim had thankfully been uneventful. The weather had held and the going had been fairly easy. If there were any highwaymen lurking along the roads, they stayed well out of view with the sight of so many blades mounted on horseback providing an obvious deterrent. Still though, there were many long hours of travel during which hardly anyone in the party spoke, choosing most of the time to ride in complete silence. From time to time there would be outbursts of small, idle chatter. But mostly there was quiet contemplation on the part of the travelers. While the road ahead looked free and clear, The Warden and his associates knew all too well that things were soon to be significantly more difficult.

Alistair had been made aware of the situation, or lack of, in Denerim. The king was both amazed and relieved at the news. But the unrest in the streets had only been part of the problem. The real task was dealing with the Chantry and the Templars. Both of which had their sights set squarely on Morrigan. Alistair knew all too well who held the real power in Ferelden: The Chantry. And any leader foolish enough to oppose their political might usually risked being rejected, or in some cases, even removed. He was taking a huge gamble that his crown would emerge from ensuing storm unscathed.

Morrigan's barbed tongue was able to find no shortage of victims as she continually grumbled while riding in the horse-drawn cart, telling The Warden, "We shall see what sort of mood you are in after spending several days gazing at a horse's backside." with a hiss. He could only smile knowing it was a sign the witch was feeling better. For the previous couple of weeks, Morrigan had been acting as if she were unsettled and distracted by something. The Warden wasn't sure as to the source of her inner turmoil, he seldom was, but at last she was showing signs of having come to terms with whatever was bothering her. That also meant that he and Morrigan were due for another one of her talks.

The mabari rode next to her in the cart, often with his front paws hung over the side as he vibrantly sniffed the air. Leo's health had greatly improved and he was even able to venture on his own for brief stints. But The Warden was careful not to allow the dog to over-exert himself, making the beast go back into the cart after a short time.

"So, why the delays in choosing a consort? There must be no end of available young maidens yearning to throw themselves at you." Morrigan said, breaking the long silence.

"I'm assuming that was directed towards me." Alistair returned, dryly. "Not that it's any of your business, but I just haven't found the right woman, yet. Ferelden can't just have anyone as its queen."

"Perhaps 'tis best." the witch replied, "Certainly, the king of all Fereden has more important concerns."

"Yes. Exactly." Alistair agreed.

"Such as learning to read …...and to count." Morrigan said with a wicked grin.

"Why do I always walk right into those?" the king said, flustered.

Most of the banter between the group members was of a similar fashion, as it always had been. The conversation had always been kept light because of the seriousness of the situations they normally faced. At times it added much needed levity back during the days of the Blight. Alistair and Leliana had often commented on their disapproval of The Warden's relationship with Morrigan, while the witch generally preferred to frustrate Alistair by any means necessary. The Warden mostly said nothing, choosing not to take part in the conversations. He usually liked to do his talking one-on-one, instead of by committee. He had learned the hard way the dangers of engaging any of his comrades in dialogue out in public. Especially the witch.

It wasn't the fact that he had asked Morrigan a personal question that was the problem, it was the question itself that generally drew her ire. Such as the time they had just finished a skirmish in the Deep Roads against a pack of darkspawn. Morrigan had assumed the form of a bear during the battle and after the creatures had been dispatched, The Warden asked her what happened to her clothes when she changed forms.

"Why do you ask such strange questions? I do not pester you incessantly with such annoyances." She had told him.

"I was just wondering. That's all." He replied, "If you don't know, then that's fine."

"My refrain must only come from ignorance? Could it not possibly be because I refuse to answer such an inane question?"

"Never mind. Forget I asked." He said in frustration.

"For now." the witch said in a cold tone.

And that evening she had indeed given him the cold shoulder. But, just as every other time she was angry with him, she eventually thawed. It was times like those that had taught The Warden how treacherous talking to Morrigan could be. Now, though, he understood her better. Her reactions were almost like a reflex. She constantly remained guarded and letting the others see that she had feelings for him would have made her appear soft. With time, the witch found herself caring less and less about the matter, especially since their union was obviously known to all. But still, The Warden remained cautious.

While the orbs were the primary concern, they weren't the most pressing one. The issue at hand was the impending clash with the Chantry and the fight for Morrigan's freedom. There was only one slight chance of success, thanks to an ancient and obscure Chantry law known as the Writ of Apostatic Exculpation.

The law was originally penned during the earliest parts of the Glory Age, after the end of the first Blight, during which many rogue mages assisted in the defeat of the first archdemon, Dumat. Back then, the Chantry was new and it's positions on magic somewhat lax by present standards. It could be enacted upon a worthy apostate who was sponsored by a member of the nobility. It granted to the fortunate recipient shelter from the Templars. And once granted, the writ could not be revoked.

But the Writ of Apostatic Exculpation had not been used in centuries and there were no guarantees the Chantry would even recognize it anymore. It was going to take some serious political savvy, but with both the King of Ferelden and The Grey Warden as sponsors, Morrigan's chances of at least being heard were greatly increased.

After several days journey they arrived back in Denerim. Upon returning to the palace the party was met by Arl Eamon, who had been impatiently awaiting the king's arrival. The arl dispensed many choice words about Alistair's foolishness as he lectured the king over running off with The Warden on some damned fool errand. He repeatedly reminded Alistair of his responsibilities as king and noted that getting himself killed on some silly adventure wasn't among them. Ferelden needed it's king intact and on the throne in Denerim, not recklessly engaging darkspawn without the company of his bodyguards.

Once Alistair explained the nature and the urgency of his mission the arl settled a bit. He still felt that the king should have taken Captain Derik and the rest of the cavalrymen with him. However, Alistair pointed out that the passageway was too narrow for that many men during combat. There certainly would have been casualties as the men fought in cramped and tight spaces, getting in each others way. The king reminded the arl that he was still a Grey Warden himself, and as such, stood the best chance fighting the darkspawn. Eamon ultimately relented, asking the king to at least make better preparations in the future.

With the discussion over Alistair's actions concluded, the men turned the subject to the matter of the Chantry and Morrigan. It took surprisingly very little coaxing to get the arl to agree to being one of the witches sponsors. She had, after all, been the one to travel to the Fade to rescue Eamon's son, Connor, from the demon that had possessed the boy and turned him into an abomination. For that act, Eamon readily agreed to lend his support. Considering that the arl had sent his own son off to Circle Tower after the incident made the act even more unexpected. Eamon explained that his son required the tutelage of the mages at the tower in order to prevent him from being taken over by a demon again. Whatever Morrigan's source of instruction was, she had obviously mastered it and posed no threat of becoming an abomination; her religious views being none of his concern, saying that was between her and The Maker.

A courier was dispatched to the chantry in Denerim requesting an audience with the Grand Cleric, which was the first step in seeking the Writ of Apostatic Exculpation. At the audience a petition is submitted on behalf of the sponsors seeking a hearing which would determine eligibility for enacting the writ. The witch need not attend the audience, only a representative of the sponsor was required to submit the petition. Her part was to defend her actions and beliefs at an open trial. The hope being that her deeds during the Blight were enough to grant the request. That was if the Chantry decided to even honor the request. But with Alistair, The Grey Warden, and Arl Eamon all acting as sponsors there was reason to be optimistic the Chantry would cooperate. Still, there was the small matter of waiting for a reply from the Chantry.

Considering what had happened to her when she was there last, Morrigan was hesitant to stay at the palace while they waited for the Chantry's reply. The Warden was able to convince her that the palace was the best place to be if something were to happen again, mentioning to the witch that a small inn could not afford her to protection of solid stone walls. Still, Morrigan would only agree after Alistair promised to never again attempt to put her in a prison cell or separate her from her child.

Leliana decided to visit the chantry herself. Her goal being to gauge the views of the high ranking priests who would be considering the writ. She knew most of them personally and they readily gave her their opinions on the subject when she asked. Most apparently had no grievance with Morrigan, openly acknowledging her contributions during the Blight. Her status as an apostate, though, was impossible to ignore and was the greatest obstacle to overcome. But it wasn't impossible. One of the priests confided in the bard that, while it was true the writ hadn't been used in centuries, it was mainly because there had been no one worthy to bestow it upon. If there were a case to be made to invoke the writ, Morrigan's would certainly classify, the priest noted.

At the witch's request, she and The Warden would be occupying quarters in a different part of the palace than they were last time. The room, itself, was virtually the same as the last one, with a large bed, fireplace, dresser, and vanity. Its location was the determining factor, though, as Morrigan still refused to go anywhere near the other side of the palace, with the memories of her recent experiences there still fresh in her mind.

For the first time in weeks, The Warden, Morrigan, and the child had some time to themselves in their remote chambers, far away from the hustle and bustle of the rest of the palace. Seth, exhausted from the long day, fell deeply asleep and his mother placed him in the small bassinet for the night, leaving her and The Warden alone with each other.

The Warden had no problem thinking of ways for he and the witch to spend their time, considering it had been a good while since they had any chance at intimacy. The last being in the wilderness near Circle Tower, which had been ruined thanks to an errant sharp stick lying unseen in the grass. The witch's mood quickly deteriorated after locating it with her backside. So it was with great anticipation that The Warden looked forward to the evening's escapades with Morrigan. But, as usual, other things would conspire against him.

He held the witch in his arms, watching the fire's light dance in her eyes. Unable to resist the urge, he began to plant small soft kisses along the sides of her neck, moving up to behind her ears. "That is unwise." she gasped, having a hard time forming the words while his actions made her twitch and fidget; goosebumps rising to mammoth size all over her body.

"Why is that?" He mumbled as he continued to tease.

"Because, as luck would have it, I started this evening."

"Started?" he asked, unsure of what she meant.

"Yes. _Started_." the witch repeated, emphasizing the word as she looked at him.

And then her meaning dawned on him. "Well, shit." he said, stopping cold in his tracks.

"'Tis but a few days, my sweet. I highly suspect your voracious appetite shall not diminish during that time." She consoled, "Meanwhile, it affords us the opportunity to discuss other matters."

"Such as?" he asked with a mild groan.

"After our business is concluded in Denerim, what then? Are we to take the orbs and run, never to look back? Or do we make our stand against Flemeth?"

"I would rather stand and fight. If we're going to have to face her, I'd rather do it on our terms." he answered.

"Then we are agreed. I would prefer not to carry my child to all corners of Thedas."

"Alright. You have something in mind?"

"After the Chantry has been dealt with, I shall return with you to Highever."

"Highever? Why there?" he inquired.

"'Tis not obvious?" Morrigan said, "It would provide you a familiar environment to do battle with Flemeth."

"Oh, I see. Is that the only reason?" he asked her with a wry grin.

"There may be another small reason." She replied with a sly grin of her own, "Was there not the offer of a quaint cottage on your family's estate?"

"Hmm..." he said as he pretended to think, "I seem to recall something about that."

"You had better. Is that not where you intended for us to spend our time together?"

"Why, Morrigan..." he said to her softly, "If I didn't know any better, I'd swear you were trying to make a husband out of me."

"So it would seem." the witch responded, "Does that bother you?"

"Not at all."

* * *

Word arrived from the chantry that the audience with the Grand Cleric had been granted. That was great news as it meant the Chantry would accept the petition on behalf of Morrigan's sponsors, thus beginning the process to obtaining the Writ of Apostatic Exculpation. Arl Eamon figured the reasoning behind the acceptance was political in nature. The only thing that was big enough to give the Chantry pause was The Warden's popularity with the people. They would like to avoid any outright public confrontations with him if possible, the writ being a safe way out for the Chantry as well.

That didn't mean they would simply grant the writ, either. The Chantry would certainly have representatives to contest the motion. But it did provide all parties involved a way a settling the issue permanently. If Morrigan succeeded, she would be granted immunity from the Templars so long as she didn't practice blood magic and claimed to embrace the teachings of Andraste and the Chant of Light. If the Chantry won, Morrigan could be exiled, or worse, executed.

Leliana was chosen to be the representative to attend the audience with the Grand Cleric. Her standing within the Chantry would be very helpful during the proceedings, in addition to her status as one of The Warden's friends and as a hero in her own right, which would also provide her great sway. While the bard was still technically just a sister and not even a full fledged priest, that was by her choosing as she had yet to take any vows. Her status as revered mother at the small tent-chantry in the refugee camp was strictly temporary and had been given purely because of the bard's deeds during the Blight, the Battle of Denerim, and the lack of available priests during the crisis. But Leliana was still well known and respected by members of the Chantry and was considered a pillar of faith and virtue. No one doubted her belief in The Maker.

The petition was delivered by the bard to the Grand Cleric, who noted that the names the petition bore required her to seriously consider granting the hearing, as these were the names of no ordinary men and if Morrigan had allies such as these, who were respected men in Ferelden, then there was cause to think there were sufficient grounds to enact the writ. After taking a short time to review the issue, Alyesa agreed to grant the hearing, announcing it would commence in three days time and was to be held in the west wing of the chantry in Denerim, in the main meeting hall.

Once the news was relayed to those at the palace, plans were started to make the case for the witch. Eamon thought it best to have Morrigan counseled on the responses she would be giving at the hearing, not wanting to leave anything to chance. Naturally this infuriated the witch. "I would sooner gouge out my own eyes than have someone dictate what I can say and what I cannot." she said, meaning every last syllable.

It was only after a good bit of persuading on The Warden's part that the witch relented and agreed to some "assistance" in preparing her responses. While Morrigan was quite aware of the gravity of her situation, her pride still prevented her from accepting help from others. And if she was to be successful, Morrigan was going to need a great deal of help. Obtaining the writ was something that was impossible for her to do on her own and needing to rely on others made her uncomfortable. The same people the witch had repeatedly scoffed at for their beliefs about charity and kindness were now the ones who offered that same charity and kindness when she needed it most. The irony was not lost on her.

Another point that was addressed, much to Morrigan's displeasure, was the witch's appearance and attire. The arl felt the witch's usual clothing might be a bit inappropriate for the hearing, usually being tattered and more than slightly revealing. She had made most of her own clothes from what was available to her in the wilds, even still it was readily apparent that the witch had a discerning eye for elegance. But no matter how elegant, her usual clothes would not do. In order for the Chantry to believe she was an upstanding mage, she would have to look the part. That meant she was going to have to buy a dress, something that Morrigan had never experienced, nor ever wanted to experience.

The bard insisted that it be her to take Morrigan shopping for a new dress, as she hopped up and down in place like an excited child. The Warden agreed, which brought a loud squeal of joy from Leliana, who immediately began planning out destinations they would scour to look for the best dress. And of course a new dress meant new shoes as well. And a matching purse. And maybe a necklace, too.

"That sounds like a good idea. You ladies have fun." The Warden said, very grateful is was not him who had been elected to go.

The witch gave The Warden a glare that said _If you think the matter settled, you are sorely mistaken _as Leliana urged her to get moving. The bard loved to go shopping. It was one of her vices and it had been all too long since she was able to indulge herself. Fortunately she was familiar with all of the shops worth knowing in Denerim and planned to take Morrigan to every single one. The witch saying sarcastically that she could hardly contain her glee.

As The Warden began to make his way from the room before anyone changed their minds, the witch grabbed him by the arm and stopped him. "And just where are you off to?" she said, placing her hands on her hips.

"I have to...uh...go see Alistair." he replied.

"These fine raiments are not going to pay for themselves." Morrigan stated as she held her open palm out to him.

With a deep sigh, he said, "Fine," and reached to his belt, removed his coin sack, and untied the string to open it. He poured several sovereigns out into his hand and and began to offer them to her. But before he had the chance, she quickly snatched the entire sack from his hand and stuffed it in the waist of her breeches.

"Thank you, my sweet. That should suffice." was all she said as she gave him a peck on the cheek and walked out of the room, joined by Leliana. The Warden was left standing in the room by himself with the most befuddled look on his face.

Three days was not a great deal of time to get ready for the hearing and there was still much that needed to be done. Despite Morrigan's reluctance to have someone coach her on the proper responses, she knew that everything hinged on them. She would be scrutinized in front of a panel consisting of elder priests and the Grand Cleric herself. They would spare no effort in determining whether Morrigan's deeds were worthy enough to enact the writ. And knowing his witch's penchant for impatience and her ability to wield her tongue as effectively as any weapon, gave The Warden reason to be nervous.

And, as always, in the back of his mind was Flemeth and the orbs. The Warden constantly kept a wary eye at all times, as he knew the old hag could come from anywhere at anytime. If she were to strike, now would be a good time, he thought. He feared the distraction with the Chantry would provide too big of chance for the hag to pass up. But if they did manage to make it through this somehow, Morrigan said that she would go with him back to Highever. It would be foolish to think they could hide from Flemeth there. The Warden knew she would find them in time. But the idea of the witch going with him to live in Highever gave a new sense of permanence to their relationship that he felt had been lacking. For the first time they were making plans for a future together, and while it might still be some time before he and Morrigan were able to act on those plans, they still gave him a reason to be optimistic. He would have to wait three days to find out if his optimism was rewarded.


	16. Chapter 16

**Part XVI**

It was still dark outside when Morrigan awoke to Seth fussing in his bassinet. The witch begrudgingly left her warm, comfortable spot in the large bed and walked over to the crying baby. She gently lifted Seth from his place and held him against her, consoling her son. Once in his mother's arms, the child quickly began to calm down as he rested against Morrigan's breast, his large, golden eyes staring at her intently.

"If you think I shall stand here all night and hold you, you will be sadly disappointed." she said to the child as they stared at each other. Seth responded with a series of gurgles and sounds only a mother could decipher.

"How like your father." Morrigan said as she let out a deep sigh and dutifully began pacing the floor in front of the fireplace. She had been pacing back and forth for some time before she noticed the The Warden was not in the bed. She and the child were alone in the room.

The witch grabbed a robe and quickly wrapped it around herself, not bothering to tie the front closed. She quickly slid her feet into her slippers and with the child in her arm she opened the door to the bedchamber and walked out, heading down the hallway. In the morning the proceedings for the writ were set to begin. That would mean The Warden could only be in one possible location.

The Warden was dicing an onion on the wooden cutting board when Morrigan entered the kitchen. Not noticing her, he held the board over the skillet that was sitting on the stove, some contents already simmering within, and began to rake the chopped bits of onion into the pan. "I thought I might find you here." She said to him, finally getting his attention.

"Oh, hey." he said to her, "Trouble sleeping?"

"I might ask the same of you." Morrigan replied.

"I got hungry, so I decided to fix myself something to eat."

"You are a terrible liar." she said as she approached him. "You only act like this is when you are worried." The witch placed her free hand on his shoulder, lightly rubbing it. "Some men prefer solitude, others drink. You cook."

The Warden sighed deeply. "I know. I always wished it was something more manly." He confessed, "Like knitting."

"And you are being evasive." She returned., "I am apparently not the only one with walls to lower. Tell me what bothers you."

He stopped what he was doing and turned to her. "Yes, I'm worried. I don't know what's going to happen to you and it scares the hell out of me. A dragon or darkspawn I can kill. But this? I don't know how to fight this."

"You and I have not come this far together only to be denied now. Let the small minded priests do what they will, it shall gain them little."

"How can you say that? Morrigan, if they chose not to grant the writ they'll want to execute you." He said to her, his voice filled with worry.

"Then, 'tis up to me to ensure that possibility never arises. We cannot expect to defeat Flemeth while at the same time staring over our shoulders in fear of the Templars."

"I'm not disagreeing with you. But we've worked so hard to be together...if I ever lost you I don't know what I'd do."

"Nor I, you." She said in a comforting tone that no one, save The Warden, had ever heard her use. "I ask you to have faith, my love. 'Tis not your battle to fight. 'Tis mine. I can play the part of the good little girl when need be."

"I do have faith in you. It's the Chantry I don't trust."

"Then perhaps you should bribe them with some of your cooking." Morrigan said with a grin as she smelled the delicious aroma emanating from the skillet, "I trust you made enough for two."

"Don't I always?" he said, responding with a smile of his own.

Not long after the Sun had risen, Arl Eamon summoned both The Warden and Alistair to the study to go over the day's strategy once again. There was no margin for error as the Chantry would be looking for any holes or weaknesses in the witch that they could exploit against her. Everything was going to have to be perfect.

"When will Morrigan be joining us?" The arl asked The Warden.

"Leliana is helping her get ready. She'll be down in a bit." he responded.

"She had better make haste. We don't have much time." Eamon said.

"Have you ever seen a woman make haste when it comes to getting dressed?" Alistair inserted into the conversation.

And true enough, the three men waited for more than an hour for the witch to make her appearance. And when she did finally walk through the door of the study wearing her new dress, there was nothing but stunned silence. The Warden's chin fell to the floor as he beheld the sight of his witch. It was the first time he had ever seen her in a dress. For all he knew it was the first time she had ever worn one.

The red velvet garment hung low against the floor. It was adorned with tastefully done embroidered stitching of gold and silver threads. The neck line modestly cut to expose some skin, but not plunging enough to reveal any cleavage. The sleeves were short and the shoulders slightly puffed and ruffled. Her hair was put up in a jewel encrusted ebony comb, showing off her slender neck.

"Why do you stare?" Morrigan said, feeling extremely awkward.

"You look...amazing." The Warden replied, still transfixed by her.

"I _feel _ridiculous." the witch retorted.

"That will do nicely." Eamon noted.

"Put a nice dress on her and you'd almost think it was a different person." Alistair said with a smug grin, immediately followed by a loud "Yeow!" as the witch sent a small zap in the king's direction, striking him squarely on the buttocks. "Hey!" Alistair exclaimed as he fervently rubbed his backside.

Eamon reiterated to Morrigan what she was to expect at the hearing. A representative from the Chantry would question her at length about her beliefs and why she thought she was worthy to receive the Writ of Apostatic Exculpation. The witch wasn't required to posses a vast knowledge of the Chantry or the Chant of Light, which was fortunate. She would instead have to make the case that she understood The Maker called her to aid during the Blight and that she had responded unquestioningly to that call, which for Morrigan was possibly harder to do than reciting the Chant of Light. Harder still, she would have to openly accept the Chantry's views on magic and promise to abide by them.

The Warden nervously fidgeted in his spot. He had always been the rescuer, drawing his blade in service of those who required it. But in this instance his blade would do no good. He was forced to watch as Morrigan rescued herself. No matter how much he wanted to fight the battle for her, he had to admit that he couldn't. It gave him a sense of helplessness that he found unfamiliar and unnerving. He tried coming up with an several exit strategies in case this course of action should fail, but there was little hope of success in any of them. And before The Warden was ready, the time had come for them to make their way to the Chantry.

The Warden, Morrigan, Alistair, Leliana, and Arl Eamon all sat patiently waiting in the main hall in the chantry. In the far end of the room a table with seven chairs behind it had been set. A lone chair was also placed near the middle of the room, facing the table. Several seats had also been placed against the back wall, where those who accompanied the witch would sit.

The door to the private offices of the Grand Cleric swung open and a procession of the Chantry elite poured out. Six of the most respected and highest ranking members of the Chantry in Ferelden joined the Grand Cleric and walked slowly and precisely to the chairs sitting behind the table. Alyesa, the Grand Cleric, took the chair in the center.

"These proceedings will now commence." Alyesa said upon sitting, "Arl Eamon, you may begin."

The arl approached the center of the room, turned and gestured to Morrigan to take the small chair beside him, which she did.

"This is she?" asked Alyesa.

"Yes, Your Eminence." the arl answered.

"Morrigan, Witch of the Wilds, the purpose of this hearing is to decide your eligibility for the Writ of Apostatic Exculpation. Something that has been used very rarely in the past and has not been granted at all in centuries." the Grand Cleric stated, "What you seek is no small matter. I hope you understand the importance of the situation and the consequences if you fail."

"I do." Morrigan answered.

Arl Eamon cleared his throat.

"Your Eminence." The witch added.

"Very well, we will begin." Alyesa said as she gestured to a middle-aged man wearing a chantric gown of a unique design. It was tan in color with an emerald decorative collar and covered in gold trim.

"I am brother Gyestorn, Grand Inquisitor. I will be the one conducting this interview."

"An interview is it? I was under the impression twas a trial." Morrigan said in a cool tone, causing every one of her supporters to groan.

The Inquisitor raised his eyebrow at the witch. "Yes, well, be that as it may, I have some questions for you."

"You may ask your questions, I've nothing to hide." she replied.

"Alright. First off, I would like to know about your mother. Am I to understand that she is _the_ Flemeth of legend?"

"I cannot validate the truth of that statement. She is far older than I and possesses vast power, but I have seen no proof of her exploits apart from her many tales. Twas she who claimed it to be so, not I."

"So you doubt she is really who she says she is?"

"To the contrary. I wholeheartedly believe my mother is who she claims."

"I see." was all the Inquisitor replied.

The questions continued for several long hours as Gyestorn probed the witch with a bombardment of inquiries covering many topics. Surprisingly, none of them having anything to do with The Maker or the Chantry. He instead asked Morrigan about her views on magic and how best to teach young apprentices. He also asked about the dangers of becoming an abomination and how best to deal with one, which invariably led to the subject of the arl's son, Connor.

"You were the one to go into the Fade to battle the demon that had claimed young Connor, is that true?" Gyestorn asked.

"Twas I." Morrigan answered.

"So you freely admit to taking part in an unsanctioned ritual?"

"Had I not, the boy would have been destroyed. Twas a spell none of your mages are familiar with. You should be grateful for Jowan's assistance."

"Jowan...he's the blood mage who originally cast the spell that sent you to the Fade, correct?"

"Yes, you are correct."

"So in addition to using rogue magic, you willingly chose to be an accomplice to a blood mage?"

"The Warden went to great lengths to procure the required amount of lyrium. What you would call 'blood magic' was not used in the spell. "

"No? Were you saving that for later to conceive your son?" the Inquisitor asked, obviously aware of a great deal about the witch.

"My son is not the subject of this inquiry. You would do well not to mention him." Morrigan said with a scowl.

"I disagree." the Inquisitor said, staring squarely at the witch. "I think he's the most important subject. After all, it was his conception that saved The Warden's life against the archdemon, wasn't it?"

"Again, had I not used the magic at my disposal there would have been deaths. 'Tis more important to you that one follows the rules, even if those same rules cost lives?" Morrigan questioned.

"We simply can't discard them for the sake of convenience. These rules have been in place for a centuries and were put there to serve a very important purpose: To protect us from the dangers of magic."

"Magic is not the danger, only the fools who improperly wield it."

"Even more reason to have rules in place to govern magic." Gyestorn reasoned.

"Rules set up by whom? Your kind? Ones who know nothing of magic? Those rules are more akin to shackles placed purely out of ignorance and fear. Your mages cower beneath the Templar's watchful gaze, who treat the mages as if they are cursed." The witch said, rebuking the Inquisitor.

"It's the only way for mages to be able to coexist with our society."

"By spiriting them away at childhood to an isolated, phallic tower in the middle of a lake and keeping them hidden from view their entire lives? How is this coexistence?" Morrigan asked vehemently.

"It's the safest way for everyone involved."

"'Tis the safest way for _you_."

"This is an interview, not a debate about Chantry ethics." Gyestorn reminded.

"Are not your ethics the very heart of this hearing?" Morrigan asked with a steely tongue, "You expect me to abide practices that are flawed at the core."

"Flawed because you say so?"

"Flawed because your own mages say so. What you offer is oppression and nothing more. If the mages were to submit willingly, there would be no need for the Templars, the very symbols of that oppression."

"The Templar Order is highly respected throughout all of Thedas." Gyestorn countered.

"By the ignorant masses, yes. But ask any mage and they will tell you a very different answer. They never asked to be born with such talents, yet you would hold them captive for it."

"I believe you have enough to make your decision, Your Eminence. I think we are done here." the Inquisitor said, turning to the Grand Cleric as he did.

"Indeed. Thank you, Brother Gyestorn. The other members of the panel and I will now deliberate on the matter. We will convene here again tomorrow morning and I will render my decision." The Grand Cleric said, rising from her chair.

"Thank you for your time, Your Eminence." Arl Eamon said, trying to get the witch to follow his lead.

"Thank you...Your Eminence." Morrigan said, having difficulty with the last two words. She said them as if they had escaped her mouth without the rest of her body knowing what she had said.

Alyesa turned and headed back towards her private office, the other six members of the panel following in kind. The doors swung closed once again behind her when she exited the hall. The group was once again alone. Morrigan still sat in the small chair in the middle of the room, the reality of what she had just done beginning to set in.

"I've ruined everything." the witch said with despair.

Back at the palace, Morrigan had retreated to the seclusion of her and The Warden's private bedchamber. She was trying to come to grips with the situation and failing miserably. Curbing her tongue was not among her skills and for once she greatly regretted it. All she wanted to do was hide herself from everyone, especially The Warden, whom she had disappointed yet again. She greatly wished Flemeth would make her appearance and put an end to her misery. Unfortunately for her, though, the privacy was all too brief as The Warden soon found her moping around their room.

He went to his witch and embraced her. Morrigan refused to look him in the eye, as she often did when she felt she had let him down. He tried to console her, telling her things weren't as bad as she made them out to be. But there was no disguising the worry in his voice. The Grand Cleric's verdict was already known to both of them. Alyesa had been one of the most conservative Grand Clerics in Ferelden's history, and there was little hope she would grant the writ after Morrigan's outburst at the hearing. The shame and disappointment the witch felt finally overtook her and she buried her face into The Warden's chest, attempting to hide from the world within his arms.

For a long time he held her close to him and said nothing, allowing her to deal with all the strange and new sensations that flooded her. Regret and remorse for her actions was something the witch was unaccustomed to experiencing, but for the first time in her life, it mattered what someone else thought about her. Eventually though, Morrigan raised her head to look at him, wiping a single tear away with her fingertips. "What spell have I cast on you that prevents you from leaving me?" she asked him with genuine curiosity in her voice.

"I don't have a clue. But I am definitely under your spell. And whatever happens tomorrow, I'll be right there next to you." he said to her as he squeezed her tightly in his arms.

"I am not deserving of you." she said meekly to him.

"You're right. You deserve better than me." The Warden replied.

"Impossible man." she said with a huff.

Once more, Morrigan, The Warden, and the others found themselves inside the main hall at the chantry. They all sat in silence as they waited for the Grand Cleric to appear and announce her decision. And, just as before, the doors to the private offices of the Grand Cleric swung open. But instead of the line of priests that had come out the previous day, only a lone brother emerged. He approached Morrigan, took a small slip of paper from his sleeve and handed it to the witch. When she had taken it from him, the brother nodded silently, turned, and exited the room the way he entered.

"What is it?" The Warden asked her as she opened the folded paper and read it's contents.

"The Grand Cleric wishes to see me privately in her chambers." Morrigan answered with a look of concern.

"Then you had best go see what she wants. It would be unwise to keep her waiting." Eamon noted.

She folded the paper back up, clenched it in her hand and rose from her seat. With slow, steady steps she headed for Alyesa's office, unsure if it was good news or bad news that awaited her. The Warden's eyes never left her as she walked through the door and into the hallway leading to the offices, his heart in his throat.

When she arrived at the private office of the Grand Cleric she was surprised to find the door was already open and that Alyesa was sitting behind her large, ornate wooded desk. The Grand Cleric noticed Morrigan and beckoned her to come inside and close the door, which she did.

"Good. I'm glad we finally have a chance to talk privately for a moment." Alyesa said to the witch, gesturing for her to sit in one of the large, red leather chairs in front of the desk.

"I was not told to expect a private audience with Your Eminence." The witch said, trying very hard to remember her manners.

"No, no. This isn't part of the normal proceedings. But given the seriousness of the matter I felt inclined to meet with you."

"I...I do not understand." the witch replied, puzzled.

"I simply have a few questions of my own. While brother Gyestron was thorough, his job is to represent the interests of the Chantry."

"Surely 'tis even more so for you." The witch reasoned.

"That's true to some degree. However, in this matter I need to be above such things and see the whole picture. And while I initially had intended to rule against you, something prevented me from making the final decision. It was what you said about the value of life." The old cleric paused for a moment, contemplating her next words carefully, "I can't, in good conscience, condemn a woman over her beliefs when those beliefs saved so many lives; not without getting to know more about her."

"What would you ask of me?"

"You have such staunch views against the entire chantric faith, why is that? Were these beliefs taught to you by your mother?" the Grand Cleric asked.

"'Tis true, Flemeth held no love for the Chantry or it's patrons. But my views are my own and came from years of observing your kind. To me, your 'Maker' was never anything more than superstitious nonsense invented to keep the populace subdued."

"And your hatred for the Templars?"

"I spent my entire life running or fighting the Templars. Flemeth nor I ever sought them out, they came to attack _us_. Would you not also be wary of ones who desired your destruction?"

"But you left the wilds anyway, to aid against the Blight." the old cleric noted.

"Twas not out of any sense of service. I was made to do so by my mother." Morrigan informed.

"And yet you stayed with The Warden and helped him. Why?"

The Grand Cleric had hit on the one subject that Morrigan desperately wanted to avoid. The witch knew all to well the answer to the Grand Cleric's question. But she was afraid if she spoke the truth it would only serve to damn her further. She had a feeling the Grand Cleric already knew the answer otherwise she wouldn't have asked the question int the first place. "The Warden..._was_ the reason I stayed."

"You had fallen in love with him?"

"Yes." was all the witch could utter.

"What about the child you two conceived together?"

"You refer to Seth. My son. He is well. He brings great joy to both The Warden and me."

"But his very existence was brought about by blood magic. As I understand it, wasn't that your plan all along?"

"Twas my mission, yes. But the 'plan' changed along the way." Morrigan explained.

"How so?"

"Over the course of our time together, The Warden and I had become very close. I greatly wished he not be harmed."

"So you performed an ancient ritual with him to draw the essence of the archdemon into the child instead of to The Warden."

"Yes."

"And do you regret that decision?"

"No."

"I see. Thank you, Morrigan. That will be all. I think I have my decision. I will be out there shortly to inform you of it."

"Your Eminence." the witch dutifully said as she rose from her chair and exited the room.

Upon returning to the meeting hall, she was greeted by The Warden who had very nearly paced a trench into the floor during her absence. Worry draped the poor man's face as he looked at his witch for any signs or clues. Unfortunately her face revealed nothing to him as she walked over to a chair and sat.

"How did it go?" The Warden asked her.

"I've no clue." Morrigan replied, still somewhat confused.

"Well, that can't be bad, right?" Alistair asked, "I mean, she could still go either way on this."

And then the doors to the offices flung open once more. The same procession of elder priests again filed into the meeting all, accompanied by the Grand Cleric. As before, the Chantry elders sat behind the table with the Grand Cleric in the center.

"These proceedings will now commence." the cleric said, "Morrigan, Witch of the Wilds, approach."

Morrigan stood from her chair and slowly walked toward the table, casting a glance at The Warden that begged him to join her, which he did. She stood close to him, her left shoulder rubbing against his right arm. She reached down and grabbed his hand, squeezing it as tight as she could. The witch's heart raced in her chest and she reached her other hand to clasp his, holding on for dear life. She wanted run away as fast as she could, but knew it was far too late for that. This is what she had asked for and there was no turning back now. Every moment from the time she first left the wilds flashed through her mind. Everything had lead up to this and she was sure that somewhere Flemeth was watching her and laughing.


	17. Chapter 17

**Part XVII**

The old cleric's ice blue eyes stared straight into Morrigan as she began to speak, her voice showing no emotion or wavering. Alyesa had made her judgment concerning the writ and as the highest ranking member of the Chantry in Ferelden, her word was law. There would be no hope of appeal. "Morrigan, Witch of the Wilds," she began, "you have come before us to seek what has not been granted in a very long time, the Writ of Apostatic Exculpation. In the process of this hearing you have shown yourself to be highly contemptible towards both the chantric faith and the Templar Order. You have admitted to willingly violating Chantry law on repeated occasions and show no remorse for doing so. You choose to exist as a maleficar and you look down on anyone who embraces the Chantry's views on magic as small minded."

The witch's heart sank in her chest as she listened, bracing herself against The Warden for the inevitable condemnation that was to come. As much as she tried to hide her fear, The Warden could feel her tremble slightly as she pressed against him, almost as if she were trying to hide within him.

"However, it is the belief of this panel that you offered nothing but the truth as you saw it. Even before such an imposing fate you did not falter in your beliefs. Rarely has anyone spoken so candidly or with such conviction when faced with similar circumstances. That is to be commended. Had you been born and raised in Ferelden, instead of the wilds, the outcome may have been entirely different. Your views might have been more in line with the Chantry. We will never know. But the Maker sent you to us as you are for a reason. Our world is still foreign to you and your views on the Chantry are refreshing and honest. The greatest crime would not be your actions, but our refusal to acknowledge them and prove we are exactly as you think we are. That is precisely the intended purpose of the writ: To show grace and mercy. It appears there was more on trial here than just you. You have given me a great deal to ponder when this is all settled. The Writ of Apostatic Exculpation is hereby granted."

Morrigan could swear her ears were deceiving her. She looked up at her warden to see him beaming a broad smile at her. "Granted?" was the only word the witch could utter.

"Yes, granted." the Grand Cleric repeated. "Though it does not come without conditions. You will be required to inform the local chantry of your presence in any town in Ferelden you happen to visit. In addition, twice a year you are required to meet with the nearest Knight-Commander of the Templars so your status can easily be confirmed. Do you understand these requirements and agree to abide by them?"

"Yes, Your Eminence." Morrigan said as the realization was beginning to dawn on her.

"Very good. Then this matter is settled. We are adjourned." The Grand Cleric finished, rising from her chair and exiting the chamber along with the other esteemed members of the Chantry.

"You did it!" The Warden said to his witch and he scooped her up in his arms as the two feverishly kissed one another in jubilant celebration. The other members of the group circled the pair, offering their congratulations. It was if the weight of the world had been taken off Morrigan's shoulders. She was free from the Templar threat forever. After years of running, hiding, and fighting it was finally over. As usual, Morrigan remained cool and composed on the outside, but inside she was doing cartwheels.

"This calls for a celebration." Alistair said, "My treat."

"Ooh, I love parties!" Leliana exclaimed at the idea.

"That is kind of you Alistair, but not necessary. 'Tis enough to know that the Templars shall be a bother no longer." Morrigan replied, much to Leliana's dismay.

"Oh, don't be a party pooper. C'mon, it'll be fun." the bard said trying to get Morrigan to change her mind.

"Very well. You may have your celebration." the witch relented with a sigh.

The bard showed her approval with a loud squeal of delight, "I have to get back to the palace. There are many preparations that need to be made."

"I would prefer to keep things simple." the witch said to Leliana, who was too deep in thought to hear. "Leliana...?" Morrigan said, trying to get the bard's attention.

"Yes?" Leliana answered.

"Simple, not extravagant." the witch reiterated.

"Oh, sure." the bard replied while she walked out of the hall, making mental notes and plans to herself.

Morrigan turned and looked at The Warden, "She's not going to listen, is she?"

"Not a chance." The Warden confirmed with a grin, causing the witch to roll her eyes with a groan.

* * *

The Warden and Morrigan were in their quarters making preparations to leave for Highever at the earliest opportunity. She was still in the red dress she had worn at the hearing and was having more than a small amount of trouble trying to remove it. It seemed the bard had laced the back closed in such a way as to permanently trap the witch within the velvet garment. Even with the aid of a mirror she was unable to undo Leliana's knot, becoming more frustrated with each attempt. "Will you help me remove this damnable thing?" she finally said, her voice heaped with aggravation.

With a slight chuckle, he walked up behind her and after a few light tugs, the back of the dress fell open. "There you go." he said with a smile that Morrigan saw in the mirror.

"You are mocking me." she said as her face began to form one her glares, "You are aware that I have never worn such apparel before, unlike you, who are highborn."

"I can honestly say that I have never worn a dress before." he said with a smirk.

"I _meant_ expensive clothes, you silly ass." the witch said as her arms folded. "'Tis small wonder why you and Alistair get along so."

"I'm just happy. For once something good happened and I'm going to enjoy it for as long as I can."

"Make sure you do not forget what yet lies before us."

"A cottage in Highever?" he said as he nuzzled the back of her neck.

"You know full well of what I speak. Knowing my mother, she would pick a time such as this to act."

"Flemeth never leaves my mind. I promise you she won't catch me off guard." he said as their eyes met in the mirror's reflection.

"'Tis good to know." she replied as she placed her soft hand on his.

"But for now, let's just enjoy this. You're free and soon we can start our future together. When the time comes to deal with Flemeth I know we'll be ready."

"Admittedly, your optimism is infectious." Morrigan confessed.

"We may only have thirty years together at most, but I couldn't imagine a minute of that time without you."

"Then, I shall go with you to Highever and be your bride, if that is what you desire."

"More than anything. But is it what you want?" he asked.

"I find myself wanting it very much." the witch replied as she turned around to face him, her look becoming serious, "I am laid bare before you. But I beg you, handle me with care. As you have already found out, I am quite fragile."

"You are the strongest person I know." he said to her.

"You are a terrible liar." she said.

"This time every word is the absolute truth." The Warden said as he put his arms around her waist and pulled her close to him and kissed her. "We need to get ready. We wouldn't want the guest of honor to be late, now would we?" he reminded.

Morrigan let out a deep sigh and said, "I was quite hoping to avoid the gathering, altogether."

"Leliana would never let me hear the end of it. It won't be that bad, you might actually surprise yourself and enjoy it."

"I think I would much prefer the company of the Templars."

* * *

The banquet hall had been tastefully decorated with white and red flowers. The grand table was covered in several large bouquets and ornate candelabras with a large white silken tablecloth draping over, nearly hanging to the floor. Several pots of incense were smoldering, adding the smell of exotic spices to the air. Servants quickly scurried about, trying to make sure everything was absolutely perfect, all dressed in their best attire. Much to the witch's surprise, as she and The Warden arrived for the celebration in her honor, everything was very tasteful and elegant.

Leliana had taken the liberty of making seating arrangements for all the guests, placing Morrigan and The Warden next to each other on the left side of the long table, while she and Alistair would sit directly across. Stuffy old Arl Eamon was to sit at the head of the table, far removed from the others and out of earshot.

It was an Orlisian style gala, Leliana explained. In Orlais, parties and celebrations among the aristocracy were major events and treated as such. It was a time to show off one's cultural refinement and only the finest and most exquisite decorations would do. Unlike the so-called parties they had in Ferelden, which the bard considered little more than a drunken exercise in gluttony, Orlisian parties were the pinnacle of sophistication.

The meal was served with only the finest wines. In this case, straight from the king's private reserve, which just happened to contain several bottles of rare Orlisian wine that had been left behind after the forces of Orlais were driven from Ferelden.

At first, Morrigan was a bit uneasy and unsettled by all the attention everyone gave her. There were toasts in her honor and a host of people to offer congratulations to her. But as the night wore on, Morrigan found herself actually enjoying the experience. After all, it wasn't everyday that a gala was held for a maleficarum in the royal palace.

Even though the four friends were some of the most respected and honored people in all of Ferelden, they did not stand on ceremony with one another and talked as old friends often do. To them, the noise and distractions of an entire hall filled with people melted away, leaving just the four of them enjoying a private dinner.

The conversation ranged many topics, from the silly to the serious. And for once, the witch took active part in the dialogue. Although that could have been due to the wine, The Warden thought. Either way, he was just happy to see her enjoying herself for once.

"I've noticed something about you two." Alistair said.

"Oh, what's that?" The Warden asked between mouthfuls of food.

"Every other couple I've ever seen comes up with these silly pet names for each other, like Pumpkin Cakes or Boogley Bear, or whatever. But you two haven't done that."

"Boogley Bear?" Leliana asked with a giggle.

"Trust me," Alistair said, "I've heard worse."

"Dwemer and I do not stoop to such childish behavior." Morrigan offered.

"Well..." The Warden started, "there is this one thing that I call her..."

"Really? What's that?" Alistair inquired, piqued with curiosity.

But before The Warden was able to speak the words, he felt the distinct pressure of four sharp barbs pressing against his loins. He looked over at his witch who was smiling at him, her left arm under the table holding his groin hostage with a fork. "Do go on and tell Alistair what you call me." she said sweetly, batting her eyelashes at him while she applied slightly more pressure to the fork.

"Nothing. Never mind." The Warden hastily replied.

"She has something sharp pressed against your jewels, doesn't she?" the king guessed, turning to face Leliana for confirmation.

"A knife most likely, or a fork." the bard agreed.

"Whatever you call her must be pretty bad." Alistair noted to his friend. "I bet we can guess it." He said to Leliana.

And as Alistair and Leliana began to randomly call out goofy names, both The Warden and Morrigan knew their chances of success were almost nil. The name he had given the witch was not among the cute and cuddly types and always drew angry glares from Morrigan whenever he spoke it.

At first, when two people come together, both participants generally do their absolute best to hide their flaws from one another. But after a time those things become less important as the pair begins to get more comfortable around each other. Things that were once considered taboo eventually become commonplace, such as bodily functions and the sounds associated with them. While in public, Morrigan was the epitome of grace. In private, however, The Warden knew she could break wind as well as any man. He had christened her "Death's Herald" for the ability. The witch was not amused and for revenge would sometimes bomb the unsuspecting man as they lay in their bed, wrapping the blanket over his head with a cackle and forcing him to breathe the poisoned air trapped within.

After a while, Alistair and Leliana gave up trying to guess Morrigan's pet name, having come no closer to finding it out. The sharp points of the fork where eventually lowered and The Warden's manhood survived another day.

The hour was starting to get late and the party finally began to wind down. Most of the guests had left or retired for the evening. The Warden and Morrigan made their way back to their bedchamber in the back of the palace, where they found Seth asleep in his bed along with the nanny who had drifted off in the chair by the fireplace. While Morrigan checked on the sleeping infant, The Warden woke the nanny to inform her of their return.

The poor, startled woman hopped up and quickly made her apologies for falling asleep. The Warden told her it was quite alright and thanked her for her services. With a bow, the nanny exited the room, heading to her personal quarters.

Upon making sure her son had been well cared for, Morrigan began to remove her white silk dress, another new item of clothing picked out for her by Leliana. The garment proved to be far easier to remove than the previous and it slid to the floor unhindered. The witch turned to notice The Warden staring at her expectantly as she stood near the fire wearing nothing but her underwear. "Not tonight, my sweet." she said as she let her hair down; the silken ebony strands falling between her shoulder blades, "But your wait is nearly over."

The Warden grumbled in disappointment as he began to put on his bed clothes. He pulled back the blanket to the bed and prepared to climb in when paused and looked at Morrigan. "We're really going to do this, aren't we?" he asked her.

"Do what?" she replied as she walked around to the opposite side of the bed.

"Leave for Highever in the morning. To make a place of our own. No more sleeping in tents night after night. We'll have our own bed, in our own home. Together."

"Yes, we are. However, there will be no grand marriage ceremonies until after Flemeth has been dealt with. I'll not partake in nuptials while living in the shadow of her constant threat."

"And after we stop your mother?" he asked, looking straight into her eyes.

"Afterward, I am yours, totally and completely for however long you shall have me." Morrigan answered.

"I'm already yours."

"I know you are. And I do love you." she said to him in that rare comforting voice, "But it would be unwise to wed until Flemeth threatens us no more. We need to focus on eliminating the danger she poses before we can even think of such things." She stared at him with her soft golden eyes, "Dwemer...You know that I am right."

"But what if it takes years? We don't have any clue when she'll be back." The Warden countered.

"I never said we had to wait until Flemeth's return. I said we would wait until her threat had been eliminated. I may be able to find a way to unlock the secrets the orbs contain and in so doing render my mother's plans pointless." the witch explained as they both climbed into the bed.

"That's a pretty big gamble. You can't even come in contact with them, only Alistair and I can."

"There shall be no need. I can examine them without having to manipulate them. As a mage, I feel the magic that they radiate and given time I will come to understand it." Morrigan said, trying to alleviate his worry.

"That still seems like a big risk." he replied, not totally convinced.

"Do you remember when we were in Redcliffe and you pulled me aside to talk to me?"

It wasn't something he would soon forget, if ever. That was when he had given her "the lecture" as she called it. The village lay beneath Arl Eamon's castle and was under siege by nightmarish undead creatures. The arl lay sick or dying within his castle, his true status unkown. Leliana, and Alistair, as always, accompanied The Warden and Morrigan, with the witch being especially cynical.

All day she had been making sarcastic remarks about almost everything The Warden did to aid the terrorized folk of the village. No matter what he seemed to do, she had a derogatory comment to make about it. After hearing all he could stand he invited the witch to talk with him in private. He explained to Morrigan that complaining about everything wasn't helping matters and if they were going to reach the castle and save Arl Eamon it would require destroying the army of undead that came from the castle every night and invaded the village. And in order to do that the men would have to be well prepared and armored. That meant they needed the blacksmith, Owen, at work in his forge, not in a drunken stupor worried about his daughter.

"Do you remember what I said to you?" Morrigan asked him as they lay beside each other in the large bed.

"You said...'Are you quite done lecturing me?'" he said, doing his best Morrigan imitation.

"I sound nothing like that!" The witch exclaimed with a giggle.

"Well, I can't quite do the sexy overtones, but I think I got it close." he said of his effort.

"Be serious!" she stated as she gave him a light whack on the shoulder, "Do you remember your reply?"

"I asked you to trust me and told you I needed your help." he responded.

"Yes, you did. Twas not an easy thing you asked of me. I now ask the same of you. Trust what I tell you. The orbs are of no danger to me so long as I do not touch them or try to invoke their power."

"I _do_ trust you. But that isn't going to stop me from trying to protect you."

"I know that all to well." Morrigan said as she leaned over and gave her warden a soft kiss, "Let us get some sleep. We've a long trip ahead of us, do we not?"

The lanterns were blown out and another day came to a close. But The Warden would get little rest that night as images of the impending clash with Flemeth filled his mind. He likened the feeling to a noose that was slowly being tightened around his neck. It would be up to him to make sure they were prepared for whatever the old hag might have in store and he was unsure if he was up to the task. There was nothing to offer a single clue as to when Flemeth would make her appearance, let alone what forms the old demon would take. The last time they had fought, Flemeth assumed the form of a high dragon and was very nearly the victor. There was no telling what she had in store for the next time. Whatever it might be, it would surely be more powerful than even a high dragon.

* * *

The Sun was shining brightly in the clear sky overhead as The Warden, Morrigan, Seth, and Leo, who had been fully recovering from his wounds sustained at Orzammar in the royal kennels, all departed from the royal palace in Denerim and started their journey towards Highever. It was just over two days travel to their destination of Castle Cousland. This would be their temporary residence while Morrigan probed the orbs for their secrets and while The Warden chose a suitable spot to build a cottage.

As they passed out of the palace gates and into the main streets of the city, they were approached by three young mages, all dressed in the same drab orange gown of the Circle of Magi. As it turned out, they were admirers of Morrigan for having won the writ. It seemed that Alyesa had been moved quite a bit by the witch and was contemplating opening up several new schools of magic for study as well as talking to First Enchanter Irving about the Circle having a larger role in governing itself, which would greatly reduce the Templar presence. For the first time, The Warden stood by while his witch received the gratitude of others. Normally it was the other way around, but he didn't mind.

The young mages told Morrigan she was their hero and their role model. Something she had never heard before and was having some difficulty responding to it. She tried to explain to them that she was not fit to be anyone's mentor, but they refused to listen. Because of Morrigan's struggle with the Chantry, mages all over Ferelden were feeling the reigns of the Templars starting to loosen. It wasn't much, but it was reason to hope that better things might be in store for the weary mages of Ferelden.

After the three had left, Morrigan turned to The Warden and asked, "Is that why you do it? To experience their praise?"

"It is nice, I have to admit. Being the Grey Warden certainly has it's perks. But that's not why I do what I do. I do it because if I don't, who will? There are many terrible things out there and someone has to protect people from it."

"I must admit, there is a certain quality about the experience I found rather appealing."

"Like it or not, you're one of the good guys now." he said to her, "Well, in your own way, I guess."

"I'm not sure if I even desire to know what you mean by that." she replied.

It turned out that event was not a singular one. As word spread of Morrigan's hearing and the resulting outcome, more mages sought her out to show their gratitude towards her. She was finally starting to understand the people's fascination with The Warden. He had given them hope when they needed it most. And as the aftermath of Morrigan's actions swept through Ferelden she could see the hope she had given to the mages that approached her. It gave the witch a great deal of satisfaction to know she had at least done some good for once, not that she intended to make a habit of it.


	18. Chapter 18

**Part XVIII**

The tall towers of Highever Castle rose into the air, visible for miles. The Warden spied their fortified tops sticking out above the trees as he and the witch approached. An uneasiness began to gnaw at his gut. The castle had been his home his entire life, almost every notable memory he had before meeting Morrigan occurred within its thick and sturdy walls. Most of the memories he recalled fondly. Others were terrible nightmares that would haunt him for all of his days; all taking place on one fateful night. The Warden's brow tightened as his stomach twisted itself into tighter knots the closer he and Morrigan approached the castle.

"You are thinking of that night, are you not?" she asked him.

He nodded affirmative and said, "I can't get it out of my head. This is the first time I've been back since then. It's been over a year."

"We could go elsewhere if you wish. I understand this must be incredibly difficult for you."

"No. I need to do this. I have to put it behind me."

"I am here, should you need my support." Morrigan offered.

From what The Warden could tell, most of the damage caused on the night of the attack had been repaired. The castle stood as proudly as ever, nestled up against a hillside overlooking the village. But he wasn't fooled. Images of fires burning in the corridors and bodies covering the stone floor, drenching it with the blood of the castle's inhabitants, raced through his mind.

From atop the wall above the main gate a shout could be heard, "He's back! Master Dwemer has returned!" which rang through the castle being carried from one man to the next. All of the sudden the castle sprang into life as castle knights and servants carried the call throughout the corridors, yelling, "Master Dwemer has returned!"

"'Tis evident you have been missed." Morrigan said of the reaction.

The Warden gestured to one of the men-at-arms stationed in the courtyard, who obediently hurried to see what The Warden desired of him. "Where Fergus?" he was asked by The Warden.

"In the atrium, My Lord." the soldier dutifully answered.

"Tell the servants to make ready my chambers. I'll be needing items for the child as well as his mother. Also, take Leo to the kennels and make sure he's looked after. I'll be by to check on him in a bit."

"Very good, My Lord." the soldier said with a bow and heading off.

"Go with him, boy." The Warden said to the mabari who then raced off after the soldier. "I need to go see Fergus."

His words caused her to grimace slightly. "So soon? I would rather have the opportunity to freshen myself, beforehand." she replied.

"You're just nervous. There's nothing to worry about. Fergus isn't going to bite your head off."

Still, meeting The Warden's older brother was not something Morrigan looked forward to. She was nervous enough about meeting his only surviving family member as it was, but added to that was the fact that Fergus Cousland also happened to be Teyrn of Highever, and as such, only King Alistair held more power and influence in Ferelden. If she failed to win his approval it could prove to be disastrous. The Couslands had always been renowned as being a pious family, even if The Warden was not, and Morrigan feared that Fergus would be less than receptive to the idea of his little brother being betrothed to a maleficar, even if she did possess the Writ of Apostatic Exculpation.

The way to the atrium from the main gate led past the kitchen on the main floor. The Warden stopped just outside the door, placing his hand on it. He stood there in silence for a moment before he finally opened the door. Inside the kitchen servants were busy at work preparing the night's supper. Elves ran rapidly back and forth as they frantically tried to complete tasks, all the while the chef barked out orders to them. The Warden walked in and up to the large wooden table in the middle of the room. Without saying a word he put his hand on the table and just stood there quietly. The servants slowly stopped what they were doing and began to pay notice to him one by one as he reflected on what he had lost that night.

"Nan..." was all he said.

Morrigan approached The Warden and stood next to him, placing her hand on his shoulder and giving a gentle squeeze. On the far wall was the door to the larder. Inside that room was the last place he had seen his parents alive. It was a door he wasn't ready to open yet. He turned his head and looked at the witch, smiled, and then walked out of the kitchen, heading towards the atrium.

Fergus was standing at the back of the atrium, admiring the exotic flora that grew there. They had been planted by Oriana, his late wife. She had been among the many lives lost the night of Lord Howe's attack. Fergus had lost both his wife and his only son that night. The flowers that he never cared about before had suddenly become one of the only memories he had of her and were now very important to him. He spent many hours in the atrium each day to gaze at them and make sure they were properly cared for. As long as the flowers lived, so did a part of Oriana.

"Announcing His Lordship, Dwemer Cousland!" A herald exclaimed loudly as The Warden and Morrigan entered the atrium.

Fergus spun around to see his brother joined by a raven haired woman with golden eyes who carried a small child. "Dwemer!" he shouted as he ran to embrace his brother. "Thank The Maker, you're back! I was beginning to think you were never coming home."

"It's good to see you, Fergus." The Warden said, "And it's good to be home again."

"My little brother, The Grey Warden. I can't believe it." Fergus said, smiling. "Who would have thought that little runt covered in mud I used to know would grow up to become The Grey Warden, Hero of Denerim."

"I'd like you to meet someone, well a couple of someones, actually." The Warden said as he wrapped his arm around Morrigan's waist.

"So, this is her?" the teyrn asked, "The woman you told me about the last time we saw each other in Denerim? Morrigan, isn't it?"

The Warden nodded confirmation.

"She's exactly as you described her. And that's good with all the things I've heard other people say about her." Fergus said, turning to look at the witch. "I've heard you've been causing quite a stir around Ferelden the past few weeks."

Morrigan froze in place, silent and unsure how to respond to Fergus' statement.

"And good for you!" he continued, "Those stuffy old coots need to get their feathers ruffled once on a while."

"I am glad you think so." Morrigan replied, relieved.

"And am I to assume the baby is Dwemer junior?" Fergus questioned, closely eying the child.

"His name is Seth, and yes, he is our son."

"Well, you're family now. Castle Cousland is your home, too."

"Thanks, Fergus." The Warden said, "But we're only going to be here for a while."

"Why's that?" the teyrn asked.

The Warden explained to his brother what had transpired since the last time the two had spoken after the Battle of Denerim, including how Flemeth could appear for the orbs at any time. Fergus tried to convince The Warden that the castle would be the safest place for the heir to the Cousland family to be. The Warden informed Fergus that he and the witch had other plans with each other but would be close enough to the castle to reach it's safety should trouble arise.

"I don't care how long it's for. It's good to have you home." Fergus said as he playfully mussed The Warden's hair.

* * *

It had taken the better part of the day, but Morrigan had finally found a suitable location to study the orbs. It was one of the unused buildings on the northwest part of the castle grounds, just outside the wall. The two-story stone structure was formerly a guard barracks but hadn't been used in years. It already contained the tables and chairs the witch needed to perform her work. That and it's secluded location would give her the privacy she required.

Dust filled the room as Morrigan pulled the coverings from the furniture. It was going to take at least an entire day just to clean the place enough to use it. But it should serve her needs nicely. Once the room was usable, she could begin to set up the items she needed to complete her work. Items that she had put on a list for The Warden to acquire for her. Chances are he would return without most of the items, and those he could find would probably be incorrect and unusable. But it gave her time to at least get started on the building without having to contend with him hovering over her and slowing her down.

Two elven servants, one a brown haired male named Tanrus, and the other a blonde female named Syrilla, had been assigned to assist the witch. They brought in two large stacks of ancient tomes that were found in the castle library, hand-picked by Morrigan, for use in her work. While the library wasn't nearly as extensive as the one found at Circle Tower, it did have one advantage over any other library in existence: Accurate books on Flemeth.

The Warden wasn't the only one she knew from the region, Morrigan's mother had originally hailed from Highever as well, more than five hundred years ago if one was to believe the legends. The castle library contained a multitude of books on the Elstan family, the former rulers of Highever, including one about Conobar Elestan. Flemeth's supposed husband. They would make for very interesting reading, indeed, the witch thought.

After a long day of errand running, The Warden had finally returned with the items he was able to procure from the village and around the castle. Some of the items proved to be impossible to find, and the others, while not exact matches to what Morrigan had on the list, should work out just fine for what she needed. He emptied the contents of his sack onto one of the tables for Morrigan to inspect, which she did, giving an approving, "Thank you, my sweet. These shall do nicely." as she grabbed the items and stacked them on a table in the corner, out of the way.

A broad smile beamed across The Warden's face. He understood little about magic and was just happy to be able to help out. It didn't matter to him if he was nothing more than an errand boy. He asked the witch if there was anything else she needed him to do, to which she replied that she didn't, disappointing The Warden a little. He slowly began to make his exit, double checking to see if there wasn't something else he could do for her, and reluctantly dragged his feet through the door to leave her to her work in peace.

"There is _something_ I would ask you." she said just before he had passed through the doorway.

"What's that?" he said as he perked up.

"Fergus had mentioned an heir to the Highever Teynir. I was under the impression that you could hold no titles as a Grey Warden. Is this not so?"

"That's true. I can't and Fergus knows it. He wasn't talking about me."

"Who then was he speaking about?" Morrigan asked, resting her hands on her hips.

"Seth." The Warden answered.

The news completely stunned the witch. "How is that possible? Surely he will posses magic talents. A mage may also hold no titles in Ferelden." Morrigan said, disputing The Warden's claim.

"He hasn't shown any talent yet. And even though I can't hold a title, the bloodline is still valid and is passed from me to my children. So until Seth shows talent, as Fergus' nephew, he's the rightful heir." He explained to her.

"All these rules you have concerning one's blood seem to me rather pointless. I must admit that most of the time they elude me."

"It also extends to anyone I marry." He noted, grinning as he did.

"So I would be expected to assume your surname and become Morrigan Cousland?" the witch responded as if annoyed at the idea.

"Not just that..." The Warden said as he moved his mouth closer to her ear and whispered, "You'd be _Lady_ Morrigan Cousland."

"Lady?" she said, cocking her head to the side in thought, "I think I rather like the sound of that."

"I thought you might." he said with a chuckle.

"And exactly when did you plan on telling me all this?"

"I never thought about it, to tell you the truth. I guess I never thought it was that important."

"If there are no further tidbits you are forgetting to tell me?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Nothing I can think of at the moment." he answered, shrugging his shoulders.

"Then, begone. I've work to do and no time for your distractions." She said as she leaned closer, gave him a quick departing kiss, and without another word Morrigan turned and went back to her work, leaving him to show himself the way out.

* * *

There was a small river than ran just to the southwest of the castle. At one of it's many bends, beside the rolling hills that pushed the view of the castle far into the background, did The Warden choose for his spot to build. Right beneath a large and ancient Visparis Oak tree, the branches of which cast a large shadow, like a large hand reaching over the ground. He had a strong feeling the witch would approve of the location as well. He intended to show her as soon as he could get her to break away from the orbs long enough, which over the past few days had become increasingly difficult.

Morrigan had become obsessed with the orbs and insisted she was close to finding out something very valuable. She theorized that each orb on it's own had a specific use and were powerful artifacts by themselves. Together, however, they could combine their powers to achieve something far more sinister. But the witch was still unsure as to what exactly that might be. She said she was close to figuring out the secret of the smallest of the three orbs, though.

It was a direct link to the Fade and acted like a spirit siphon, drawing out the souls of the victims and holding them trapped. Morrigan thought the connection worked both ways and spirits in the Fade could be likewise drawn out. A useful tool indeed when one desires the secrets only the dead can tell. Because of the nature of the magic, demons would most likely ignore the object, having no interest in it. Demons could manipulate souls at will, without the aid of any external object, so the orb was of no use to them.

Until she dug further, though, her progress had come to a standstill. There was only one way to learn more, but that meant invoking the power of the smallest orb. Something she specifically said she wouldn't do. Even though she was sure she wouldn't have to touch the orb to invoke it's power, the danger was still very great. If she miscalculated in even the slightest amount, it would be her soul the orb consumed. And if The Warden found out she hadn't kept her word he might try to stop her from studying the orbs altogether. It was an argument she would like to avoid. She chose simply not to inform him of her efforts. He only needed to be told of the results, if any.

But those things would have to wait. She was to join The Warden so he could show her the spot he picked out to build the cottage. The walk to the location would take over an hour to cover the nearly three miles. After reaching the destination and having a chance to see it firsthand, Morrigan admitted to The Warden that she was very pleased with his choice. The tree being the biggest selling point for her.

According to Chasind legend, the Vispari Oaks contained the spirits of ancient and powerful creatures known only as the Vispari. The beings grew so powerful that they had become think of themselves as gods. The old gods, incensed by this sacrilege, imprisoned them within the oaks to forever contemplate their foolishness. The witch noted that seeing such a tree was considered a good omen by travelers. To live beneath one could only be more so.

"This place is quite suitable." Morrigan said to The Warden in approval.

"I hoped you'd like it." he replied, coming up behind her, grabbing her about the waist and scooping her into the air.

"Dwemer!" the witch squealed, taken by surprise by his action, "What do you call yourself doing?"

He spun her around before laying her gently in the soft grass on her back. "You...are bad." she purred playfully as he lay over her and began kissing her with urgency. His lips caressing hers, then trailing off down her throat, and to the base of her neck. It had been weeks of torment for both and each had built up passions that filled them until they were ready to burst. Their hands quickly and deliberately tossed articles of clothing to the side as they hastily attempted to disrobe each other. His hands managed to pry open her top, freeing her breasts to him, while she was trying to remove his breeches, the stubborn things giving her problems.

Just as he was able to slide his pants down his legs, he managed to look up and spy something troubling on the horizon. Black smoke spiraled upwards into the sky in thick, billowy plumes. He followed the smoke's trail until he had found it's source: Castle Cousland.

"Oh, Shit!" he exclaimed as he jumped up, looking for his clothes. "There's a fire at the castle!"

"What?!" the witch said, startled, as she sat up from her spot in the grass. Morrigan cast her gaze in the direction of the castle to see the black smoke rising into the air. "I've got to go to Seth!" she stated as she quickly fixed her attire.

"Go!" He agreed with force, "I'll meet you there as fast as I can!"

With a nod, the witch flashed into many bright colors and was replaced by a small sparrow that leaped into the sky and flew off in the direction of the castle as fast as her tiny wings would take her. The Warden, stuck with the only form he had, raced off behind her as fast as he could. Morrigan could cover ground much more quickly in bird-form and the return trip to the castle would only take her mere minutes. But The Warden, who was on foot, would take substantially longer.

As Morrigan flew closer to the castle, she found it wasn't the main building that was on fire but one of the surrounding structures. Whatever the source was, it was in the northwest area of the castle grounds. A chill ran through her when she saw large flames belching forth from the windows of the old barracks. The building hadn't been entirely consumed by flame yet, and a line of men had formed a bucket brigade in an attempt to quell the blaze.

The witch landed and resumed her human form, giving the men in the bucket line quite a shock. "Back, all of you!" she shouted to them while she approached the building, preparing a spell. The men quickly complied as Morrigan raised arms into the air, her hands glowing with magical power. With a yell she jerked her hands downward and a wall of frozen air burst forth from her, slamming into the burning building. It was though a blizzard of intense force had been released as the frigid winds and frozen air quickly stifled the flames, leaving a thick layer of ice and frost on the charred building.

As soon as all the flames had been extinguished, Morrigan rushed inside what was left of the old barracks. The door fell off it's crusted hinges when she opened it to reveal her work area filled with thick smoke, burnt debris, and ice. She ran over to where she had kept the books on Flemeth and found only to find a pile of smoldering ashes. "Damn!" the witch fumed.

Those books were the best keys she had to filling in the gaps in what she knew about her mother. Now they lie on the floor, nothing more than blackened remains. Completely ruined. Whatever dark secrets Flemeth had, she would be able to hold on to most of them at least a while longer. For while her mother offered up a completely different tale than the one spoken in all of Thedas, Morrigan knew Flemeth had lied about several details at least. The witch had suspected there was far more to the story than her mother ever told, and based on what she was able to glean from the texts in the short time she had them, those notions had seemed to be correct.

A short while later, The Warden finally arrived gasping for air and drenched with sweat, having run the entire distance of almost three miles at full speed. When he saw the situation was under control he allowed himself to fall to the ground and lay there, attempting to get his wind back.

He felt someone kicking at his leg, trying to get his attention. The Warden looked up to see his witch carrying Seth in her arms. "Get up from there." she said to him, kicking his leg again, harder. "My workspace is in ruin. I shall need to find another immediately."

"Seth...?" he said, still too winded to talk.

"He is unhurt." the witch informed him.

"The orbs...?" he asked, gasping.

"They are safe." she answered him, her face starting to show impatience, "Now stand. I must quickly find another location to continue my study of the orbs."

"What's the rush?"

"The fire destroyed my workspace, including some very important and unique books I had found on Flemeth in your family's library." Morrigan explained, "There were no flames burning when I left to accompany you. The fire was set deliberately, I fear."

"Who would do that?"

"Considering only the texts concerning my mother were lost, I would say the answer to that question is quite obvious."

"Are you saying Flemeth started the fire?" The Warden asked, a bit confused, "If she was here, why didn't she try to take the orbs or Seth?"

"Whether twas her, or one of her agents, I do not know. But Flemeth most assuredly is behind it." Morrigan said, continuing to explain, "I have sealed the orbs, still enclosed inside the chest in which you placed them, within a barrier spell taught to me by the mage Wynne. Twas the same spell she cast to seal the tower. All other shielding spells I know were taught to me by Flemeth, so she would know how to defeat them. I do not think she is aware of the particular spell I used, so that should stop her, but only for a time. As for Seth, I've no answer. My reasoning suggests that my mother is waiting for the proper time, this not being it."

"From now on, Seth, the orbs, and you never leave my sight. Ever" He said, sitting up.

"An idea that is both pointless and annoying." the witch responded, slightly incensed. "I'll not have you hovering over my shoulder all day as I try to work."

"Flemeth is obviously watching us, so how is protecting you and Seth pointless?"

"Because fear and uncertainty are her main weapons. I've seen her use them to great effect on countless occasions."

"So I should just do nothing?"

"Not _nothing_. We shall go about our routines as usual, with the exception that Seth shall be with one of us at all times. Our best course of action is still to discover the orbs secrets."

"Alright." He said, only half-agreeing, "But if you don't want me watching over you, at least make sure Leo is with you. And I'm still going to check on you as often as I can."

"Very well, if you insist." the witch groaned.

Try as he might, The Warden couldn't shake the feeling that he was just going through the motions. If the old hag was really watching them, then acting out the routine and pretending everything is normal seemed to be counterproductive to him. After thinking about it for a while though, he came to agree with Morrigan at least partly. He knew the value of controlling fear in battle and it was wise not to let Flemeth see them sweat. But on the other hand, Flemeth was apparently not above meddling and could attempt to do so again at any time. The old hag was turning into a very frustrating opponent, indeed.


	19. Chapter 19

**Part XIX**

Morrigan had really done it this time. For the past two days The Warden had said nothing to her. Instead, all she saw was a blank expression on his face whenever she looked at him. There had been other times when he was upset with her, but not nearly to this degree. Normally, when The Warden was angry with her, he would take a couple of hours to himself and work it out internally. He hadn't done that this time. This time all the witch received from him was silence.

At first it infuriated her. Who did he think he was, the witch would ask herself, he and his "holier-than-thou attitude". Morrigan, after all, was only doing what was in the best interest of all of them. If not for her work, she and The Warden would know far less about the orbs than they did. At least, that's what she told herself at first. She eventually came to realize she was only trying to make excuses to justify what she had done. She had lied to him and he found out. And for the past two days he said nothing. Morrigan began having great difficulty dealing with how it made her feel. She only wished that he would stop being angry with her.

The witch had located a new place to continue her work with the orbs, the old cellar on the eastern edge of the castle. Morrigan had already inspected the cellar when she was originally scouting a place to work, but she rejected it because its dank, underground conditions reminded her of the dungeon in the royal palace in Denerim. To help alleviate the gloom, The Warden had several more oil lamps and torch racks installed, making her new workspace much brighter.

And while The Warden attended to building their future home, Morrigan once again set herself to the task of discovering the orbs' secrets. She was convinced that further progress could not be made without invoking the power of the smallest orb. She had no clue what the results might be, and even the attempt itself would be extremely dangerous, but she was convinced there was no other way. So the witch secretly made preparations to invoke the orb's power.

As usual, The Warden accompanied her to the cellar in the morning. His presence was necessary to retrieve the orb from storage. Morrigan lowered the spell protecting the chest that contained the orbs, he then opened the chest and took the smallest orb from it, and placed it on a small pillow that sat atop a pedestal on one of the wooden tables. She gave him a parting kiss, as she always did, before he headed out the door on his way to tend to the matter of the cottage.

Ever since the fire, The Warden had made the mabari stay with Morrigan while she worked. But on this day she requested complete privacy, claiming the dog made too much racket for her to work. In truth, Leo usually lay in front of the door, barking loudly at anyone who would dare interrupt Morrigan. She rather liked having him around to ward off unwelcome visitors. But her experiments on this particular day might prove dangerous and she feared for the animal's safety. So Leo would join The Warden instead and help him look after Seth while he worked.

Once she was sure she was alone, Morrigan began placing runes and glyphs about the cellar to help protect her from the orb's power in case something should go wrong. She wasn't even sure they would be enough against such an artifact, but it was all she add to defend herself with. Placing the protective measures was tedious and tiresome work that required several hours of immense patience, but eventually she finished and all was ready..

Invoking the orb would take all of her focus, so the witch took a few minutes to calm and collect herself before proceeding. She stood quietly in the room, eyes closed and hands at her sides. She regulated her breathing, taking in air through her nose, then exhaling from her mouth, trying to clear her mind. And when she was ready, she stepped up to the orb.

Closing her eyes, Morrigan began to channel her magic, drawing it out. She reached her hands out towards the orb, extending her magic to it. She began to feel the orb slowly coming to life, as if awakening from a deep slumber. It's power began to interact with hers, feeding off it and drawing strength from it. The orb started glowing.

At first it was faint and hardly visible, but soon there was no mistaking the deep red light emanating from inside the orb. It's glow became so bright that its luminance soon outshone the many lamps and torches that were lit, bathing Morrigan in a blood-red light. As the orb burned with the intensity of the Sun, it began to rise from its perch on the pedestal, and hovered in the air.

Voices began to flood the witch's head. Souls that had been victims of the orb were crying out to her. There were so many it was impossible to pick out any single voice at first. With a large amount of concentration, she was able to control the noise and seek out individual voices. It was like swimming against a strong current, but it became easier the more she worked at it.

Then she found it. A voice crying out to her from somewhere deep inside the orb. It was the voice of a young man. A mage. He was precisely the type of spirit she was looking for and she began to initiate contact with him. "_Can you hear me_?" she sent out to the spirit.

"Morrigan, what the hell are you doing?" a voice came from behind her, shattering her focus. All signs of life fled the orb and it plopped back down into the soft pillow atop the perch, growing dark. The witch turned to see her warden standing there, soaking wet from head to toe, holding the child in his arms.

"I was merely conducting my work, which _you_ have interrupted." the witch said with a scowl.

"Is that what you call it?" he asked not believing her, "You specifically promised me you wouldn't try to tap the orbs' power."

"Why are you not working at the cottage, have you come to check up on me?" she asked, trying to turn the tables on him.

"It started raining. Stop trying to deflect." he said, having none of it.

"Twas the only way to learn more." she explained, flatly.

"So you lied to me?" he asked, shocked at her calm demeanor, "Why?"

"Because I knew you would overreact, as you always do. As you are now."

"How is being concerned about you overreacting?" He questioned as he was becoming more irate. "Why do you have to be like this?"

"Why must you be so tiresome?" she asked smugly in response.

"Oh, that's _really_ mature, Morrigan."

"So now I am a child?" she fumed, crossing her arms and glaring at him.

"You're damned sure acting like one." he said.

"And you are an ass!" she exclaimed to him.

The Warden started to respond in anger, then decided against it. Another thought entered his head instead. One that troubled him deeply. He looked at the witch, who was still visibly aggravated, and asked, "Is it always going to be like this?"

Morrigan had no reply. All she could do was watch him turn and leave the cellar, with the child still in his arms. She stood alone in silence pondering what had just transpired. His question bothered her greatly because it was the same question she asked herself. Her free spirit and independence were her most valued traits and she tended to react harshly to anything that she felt threatened them, even when she didn't mean to.

And for two days he had said nothing to her. He had not even barred her from the orbs, though there was no need for that as she hadn't been to the cellar since the incident. She was too distracted to be able to focus and that could be a real danger. She instead found herself spending more time in the atrium, admiring Oriana's flowers. They were the first flowers the witch had seen since leaving the wilds, and Morrigan had missed seeing them. She was always attracted to their simple grace and elegance, even fancying having a garden of her own one day. But Flemeth would never have allowed such a thing, seeing it as petty and a waste of time and resources.

"They're beautiful, aren't they?" she heard someone behind her say. Turning around to face the voice, she saw The Warden's brother, Fergus. "They were Oriana's favorite."

"They are quite beautiful. She was your wife, was she not?" Morrigan asked.

Fergus nodded, "Sometimes I think I can still hear her telling me to make Oren pick up after himself."

"You have my condolences."

"That's kind of you. But I'm not the only one here who looks like someone died. What's that brother of mine done to make you so gloomy?"

"'Tis but a small matter. Surely not worth your attention."

"You're family now, remember? Nothing's too small."

"'Tis evident persistence is a family trait you both share." Morrigan noted.

"And avoiding the subject seems to be a specialty of yours." Fergus countered, "Look, whatever my knucklehead brother did, don't worry about it. I know he cares for you very much. I could see it when he talked on and on about you in Denerim, and I can see it in his eyes when he's around you. He looks at you the same way I used to look at Oriana."

"And how is that, exactly?"

"Like you're the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with."

The teyrn's statement caught Morrigan off guard, "Twas nothing he did. He is upset that I lied to him and now says nothing to me. It has been so for two days." she said in response.

"That gleam in his eye for you is still there. Trust me. He'll get over it."

"I do not posses your confidence, I fear."

"When Dwemer was about eleven or twelve he had this prized horse. He loved that beast. I don't even remember what kind, actually, except that it was a golden color with a soft, silken mane. Anyway, the horse came up severely crippled after a ride one day and had to be put down. Dwemer pleaded with our father to at least attempt to save the animal. But father knew the horse was in pain and dying anyway. He tried to explain it to my brother, who would hear none of it. Dwemer ran out of the stables screaming that he would never forgive father."

"I see little about him has changed." Morrigan said.

"Well, the animal was put out of its misery. And while Dwemer was hurt for a long time afterward and didn't speak to anyone for weeks, he eventually forgave father. He knew father was right, it just took him some time to admit it to himself."

"Yes, but your father had not lied."

"The point being, this is how my brother deals with things that really upset him. He might be mad now, but he'll come around. It just takes time." Fergus said, finishing with a smile.

"We shall see if you are right. I can only hope that you are." Morrigan replied.

"Don't worry. Everything will be just fine." he reassured. "He's still building you a home, isn't he?"

* * *

Sweat fell from The Warden's brow in large drops, splattering on the wooden board he was cutting with a saw. The work on the cottage was coming along nicely, especially since he wasn't doing all of the work by himself. He had recruited the castle's engineer and his two assistants to help him in his endeavor. The Warden might have been a master swordsman but he was a poor carpenter. But at least he knew as much. Instead he relegated himself to the role of the strong back that did most of the heavy work.

The building, itself, was going to be quite a bit larger than the standard cottage, yet still have a quaint quality to it that belied it's grandeur. The Warden figured that Morrigan had lived most of her life in cramped shacks, it was time she had a place with a bit of room. How much room, he wasn't sure. The final size of the structure would depend on something they hadn't even discussed yet: Children.

It was a talk they would have to have sooner rather than later. The Warden reckoned that if he thought Morrigan wouldn't want any children she would sure enough want fifteen, at least. And if he counted on numerous children she wouldn't want any. There was no way to guess correctly with her. Whether it was something she did consciously or not, he didn't know.

At the moment, he wasn't speaking to the witch, however. She had lied to him. Again. Of all the things in the world The Warden could list as things he didn't like, being lied to was certainly at the top. It made him feel as if he and the witch were starting from square one all over again. Just when he thought she was starting to open up to him completely.

It wasn't out of anger that he refused to speak to her. Mostly, he was trying to keep a bad situation from getting worse. He wouldn't talk until he had a chance to think about it and knew exactly what he would say to her. That's not to say he wasn't angry with Morrigan, which he was, he merely saw little point in letting his temper get the best of him. He only wished she respected him enough to be honest with him. If invoking the orbs were that important, she should have at least talked to him about it instead of going off half-cocked and maybe getting herself hurt. He could be persuaded with logic, he always felt. But she hadn't even given him the chance. That, more than anything, is what bothered him. So he worked his frustrations out in his labors, causing those who helped him to have trouble in keeping up with his pace.

The sun would be setting soon, and with it another day of work on the house would come to a close. He would take the long hike back to the castle, arriving just after dark, to find his witch waiting for him in their room in the castle, just as she always was. She would say nothing to him, only looking at him with those large, beautiful eyes. He hated how troubled they looked. He hated even more that it was his fault. And just when he could bear it no longer and decided to end his silence, she spoke first.

"I should have spoken with you concerning my intent with the orb." Morrigan said, "Twas foolish of me to attempt such a thing without your knowledge and aid. 'Twill never again be so. But I can tolerate your silence no longer"

"What can I do to get you to trust me?" he asked.

"'Tis not you, but I." the witch answered. "I've no good reason not to trust you...and yet I find myself keeping you at arm's length."

"You don't have to do that." he said as he gently placed his hands on her shoulders.

"I know." she said, her voice cracking as she looked away from him, tears beginning to well up in her eyes. "Damn this weakness." she muttered as she tried to regain her composure.

"Allowing yourself to feel emotions is not a weakness. We've talked about that."

"Maybe so." she replied, "Yet I can count on one hand the total number of times I can recall ever crying before I met you."

"And how many is that?" he inquired.

"Four." the witch answered, "Three of which you are aware."

He recalled aloud the times he knew of that she told him about, "The time you broke your foot, when Flemeth broke the mirror...and the first time Flemeth made you watch what she would do to the Chasind men."

"The fourth time I have never spoken of to anyone, til now." Morrigan began, "I was some years older when it occurred. I would guess it to be about my sixteenth spring. I had happened upon a wolf pup that had been abandoned by it's mother. The thing seemed to find me to be a suitable replacement. For some time I cared for the pup, all the while keeping sure Flemeth was none the wiser."

"What did you name it?" The Warden asked.

"I fail to see the relevance of what name I may or may not have given to the animal."

"You don't name something you don't really care about."

"Steele." Morrigan answered. "I had named him Steele. Twas a name I borrowed from a book I once had read. Anyway, before I was interrupted, it came about that Flemeth eventually discovered my secret and broke the animal's neck right in front of me. I was devastated, but I showed her nothing. I kept my composure and acted as if nothing at all had just happened."

"That couldn't have made your mother pleased."

"She merely looked at me and said nothing. The only sign she gave was a small grin before heading back into the hut. I stayed outside for some time. I can remember looking at Steele's body as it lay on the ground." the witch said, the memories obviously still vivid. "I hated her so much for what she had done. I wanted to kill her with my own hands. Twas precisely how my mother wanted me to feel and I refused to give her the satisfaction. So I set about the task of burying Steele, instead, blubbering like some small girl the entire time. When I returned, Flemeth asked me what I done with the animal, to which I replied that I had buried it to avoid attracting scavengers. The answer satisfied my mother and we never spoke of it again."

"Wow. That is just awful. You've told me some stories before, but that one I think tops them all." The Warden said, amazed.

"My point being, even with such hardships I never cried more than four times before meeting you. Since, however, that number has drastically increased."

"You keep count?"

"I clearly remember significant events in my life and am thus able to keep track. In the year and a half we've been together I have cried a total number of eleven times. Shall I list them for you?"

"No, that won't be necessary."

"'Tis a weakness I wish to resolve." she stated, almost sounding frustrated that she had not yet conquered her perceived shortcoming.

"I think it's more the reverse." he said, "I think you have some catching up to do. All that crap that's stuck inside your head has to come out eventually. No one could grow up seeing the things you saw and not be affected by it. No matter how strong they are."

"So I am still strong in your eyes?" she asked him.

"The strongest person I know." he answered.

"I am sorry I tried to deceive you about the orb." she said softly as she leaned into him, "I will be more open with you about my plans in the future."

"All I ask is that you trust me. Remember, I'm on your side."

"'Twill not be easy for me and I will require your aid." the witch noted, looking up at him.

"That's what I'm here for."

* * *

The next day, Morrigan joined The Warden at the build site. He had asked her along to help complete some of the details of the cottage. With her being wrapped up in her study of the orbs there had been little chance to ask her until then. Upon arriving at the location by the river, Morrigan was greeted by the outline of a wooden frame. From the size of it, this was to be some cottage.

The witch didn't expect that the building would be two stories tall, in addition to the large storm cellar The Warden would install after the main cottage was complete. She commented that it seemed more like a manor than a cottage to her. Not that she was disappointed by the size, she preferred a place large enough that she could find privacy if she sought it. Morrigan said if they did choose to call it a cottage, it would be a term that would fit loosely.

Grabbing the plans for the building from the work table, The Warden offered them to his witch for inspection. She looked at the plans and then looked at the partial structure before her. Several times her eyes would dart from one to the other.

"Why such a grand bedroom with such a large bed?" the witch asked, "Are you trying to get away from me?"

That was, in fact, exactly what he was trying to do. As The Warden had found, the best way to get to know someone was to share a bed with them for a long time. Over the time that he and Morrigan had been together they had shared many beds, of many types and sizes. Of all those beds, there were several constants. Morrigan was an acrobat and a contortionist in her sleep. No matter how large the surface, the witch could find a way to occupy every spare square inch, generally leaving him with only a tiny sliver on the far edge of the mattress. Another being that he could tell the temperature simply by the amount of blanket he was afforded. If it was hot, she heaped all of them to his side, nearly suffocating him. If it was cold, he would have nary a stitch of fabric to cover himself as he lay there with his teeth chattering. One cold night he went so far as to even grab an extra blanket for himself, only to wake up freezing in the middle of the night to find the witch had stolen that one as well. On some rare nights when he was allowed a small piece of the fabric she would bury her ice cold feet in his back, seeking warmth, the sudden sensation causing his manhood to retreat quickly and dramatically.

In the past, he had tried to talk to her about it several times, never making any progress on the issue. She insisted he was making all of it up just to annoy her. So instead of arguing with her about it, he figured a large bed in a large room should help fix the matter.

Morrigan asked The Warden what the blank spaces on the plans were. He told her they were possible rooms or bedrooms depending on how many they needed. His reply confused her. She wondered exactly when they would have so many visitors as to require so many rooms to accommodate them.

"They're not for visitors." he told her, "They're for children."

"Is it your goal to start a nursery?" she asked.

"No. The rooms are for _our_ children."

"Our children? Just how many did you intend on having?" Morrigan questioned as she counted all the extra rooms on the plans.

"I don't know, that's why they were left blank on the plans."

"So it is your desire to have more than one child together?"

"One day, yes. I know it's a subject we've avoided, but we need to talk about it. I don't even know if you want more kids, or how many. You've never said."

"'Tis because I could never actually see myself as being in a place were such a discussion was needed. While, I had many quaint fantasies of motherhood when I was but a child, I never thought such things ever would become a reality."

"Yet, here it is." he noted.

"Indeed." she agreed.

"So, how many do you want?" he asked her bluntly.

"We shall have four children, counting Seth." she answered with equal bluntness.

"Sounds like you've known that for some time."

"Perhaps I have."


	20. Chapter 20

**Part XX**

"What are you doing?" Morrigan asked The Warden. He was standing in the cellar, in front of the chest with the orbs with a blank expression on his face. "Dwemer!" the witch called out to him attempting to get his attention again.

"Huh?" he said in response, slowly coming out of his daze, "Morrigan...?"

"What are you doing in here?" she asked again.

He looked around as if surprised at his location. "What am I doing in the cellar?" he asked.

"'Tis what I would like to know." She said, folding her arms, "After much searching, I find you here, standing at the chest in a near catatonic state."

"I don't remember how I got here." he replied, "The last thing I recall was being in the atrium...That's when I got this feeling."

"And what feeling would that be?"

"I'm not sure. It was almost like something was talking to me, calling out to me. I felt drawn to the orbs." he answered, thinking for a minute, "I remember walking out of the atrium, but that's it until you found me here."

"'Tis most odd, indeed."

* * *

The witch was living in a fantasy world and she knew it. Growing up in the wilds, she would often find books were her only companions and she read them voraciously. Unknown to her mother, Morrigan had, since she was a very young girl, collected a secret stash of her favorite books which she would read over and over again. It was her lone guilty pleasure. Nearly all of the books had been stolen from humans who strayed into her domain. She would store the books, along with other borrowed items, in a small chest that she kept stashed in the base on an old Visparis Oak tree.

Late at night, while the humans slumbered in their tents, Morrigan would stealthily approach in animal-form and peruse through their belongings, looking for the shiny baubles and books that she so treasured. There was a great variety of books on any number of topics that she had access to on her many ventures. But fairy tales were her favorite. Anything that had to do with damsels in distress, or brave knights slaying dragons, and especially books that contained more than a fair amount of romance, were quickly seized by the witch and stashed into her knapsack for later inspection.

As she grew older, Morrigan understood the stories were nothing more than silly flights of fancy. The real world did not operate on those terms. Love does not conquer all. Instead, love is a weakness. But that never stopped her from reading the stories, again and again. Even if what they contained was nothing more that pure fantasy, it gave her an escape from the cold and heartless world she knew.

Now, though, she was living the fairy tale. Being with The Warden had shown her that at least some parts of the stories could come true. So the witch decided she was going to give herself completely to the fantasy and enjoy the experience. Because at anytime their story could come to an abrupt end and the pages of the book slam closed. Until then, however, she would totally immerse herself in the fantasy and let fate play out what it had in store for her. She was in love and she didn't care anymore.

Flemeth would surely call her a fool and say that the weakness had affected Morrigan's head. And in the hag's world, that may be so. Hardship and strife were obstacles that needed to be overcome daily. But it hadn't always been that way for the old witch. There was a time when she was the lady of the very same castle Morrigan now called home. As Conobar Elstan's wife, she would have enjoyed all the comforts life had to afford. But all that changed and Flemeth was damned to a life of solitude in the wilds. All because of love, Morrigan noted, which was undoubtedly the reason behind the hag's current views on the matter.

"Why four?" The Warden asked her as they stood together in the atrium.

"Four what?" the witch asked in response, her attention fixed on the rare orchids and lilies laid out before her. Her head moving to each flower, smelling the aroma, with soft hands cupped around the petals.

"Children." he said, clarifying.

"Ah..." she replied, pausing to prepare her explanation, "You are aware of my fondness for books...?"

"Fondness? More like an obsession."

"Be that as it may, do you recall which book I told you was my childhood favorite?"

"Wasn't it called 'The King's Forest'?" he answered, trying to remember, "The one about the kids who find a cave that leads to a magic forest?"

"Correct." she confirmed, "Do you recall how many children there were?"

"Four..." he said as the realization hit him. "They were all siblings, I think."

"Their names being...?"

"I feel like you're testing me." he said as he thought about the answer. "There were two boys and two girls, I think. Penelope and Erin, were the girls. The boys names were...Lucas and..." he paused, a large grin starting to form across his face, "I can't seem to recall the other boy's name at the moment."

"Do not toy with me. You know full well the child's name." Morrigan huffed.

"Seth." he finally said, smiling, "And you say I never pay attention to you."

"You have your answer. 'Tis a silly reason, I am aware."

"I never knew you were such a romantic."

"Now you tease!" she exclaimed, "'Tis small wonder why I tell you so little."

"I'm not trying to tease. I was just saying it's obvious you've wanted a family since you were small girl. And now that we'll have the chance, you haven't forgotten those hopes you had as a child. That makes you a romantic."

"So I am.." she said, sheepishly. "'Tis _your_ fault. Were it not for you, I would feel no need to live out these childish fantasies."

"You're welcome."

Morrigan groaned and rolled her eyes.

* * *

"_Can you hear me_?" a voice called out, startling the witch awake. "_Is someone there_?" the voice said again.

Sitting up, Morrigan looked to her right to see The Warden on the extreme far edge of the bed, asleep. He had shoved the blanket off himself again and looked cold. With a quick tug, she pulled the blanket over him and quietly crept out of the bed, wrapped herself in a robe, and went out the door to follow the voice she could still hear calling to her. "_Please! Is anyone there? Hello_?" the sound rang through her head.

Opening a side door, the witch found herself outside and headed towards the cellar. Once there, she flung the doors open and quickly walked down the steps, much to the confusion of the mabari who had been assigned the job of guarding the cellar. Morrigan reached her workspace, which was dark, except for the soft glow of the magic barrier she had placed over the chest containing the orbs. It was also the source of the voice that called to her.

"Is someone there?" Morrigan called out to the chest.

"_Finally, you've returned_!" the voice said.

"Who are you?"

"_My name is Verzanell. I'm a mage, or at least I was a mage. There's no time to explain. My power is running out and I can't hold the connection much longer_."

"What do you need of me?"

"_I'm trapped here in a part of the Fade. When you first initiated contact with me I thought I had gone mad. But with great effort I was able to use what little power I had to make this connection. I need you to invoke the orb's power. That's the only way I can tell you everything you need to know_."

"'There are many preparations needed. 'Twill be some time before I am ready to make another attempt." Morrigan informed.

"_I'm not going anywhere. But I urge you to hurry...at..I..tell..." _were the final words she heard as the connection was lost, Verzanell's power's spent.

Morrigan stood there, in front of the chest wondering if what had just happened was real or some trick her mind was playing. She was certain it was the same mage she felt before when she first attempted to invoke the orb's power. Apparently, her message had gotten through. But even more amazing was the fact that he had somehow found a way to contact her through the orb, from the Fade.

This spirit would undoubtedly posses valuable information about the orbs that they could use. That meant she would have to make another try at invoking the orb. There was no other way around it in order to gain the information Verzanell held. This time, though, she was going to honor her word and discuss it with The Warden beforehand. If he was disagreeable to the notion, she had ways to persuade him. It was a game she enjoyed playing and was very good at. She suspected he enjoyed it much as she did.

* * *

While The Warden had been away all day working on their home, Morrigan busied herself with the preparations for the special evening she had planned. She wanted everything to be absolutely perfect, even cooking his favorite meal herself rather than allowing the castle chef to prepare it. After they dined she would give him a long massage to ease his sore muscles that had toiled laboriously on their future home. And, to cap the night off, the most mind blowing sex he had ever had in his life. During which, with him hardly being in a position to refuse her, she was ask him about the invoking orb. The witch grinned at her cunning. "Damn...I am good." she thought to herself.

Later that evening, just after dark, he returned to the castle. When he arrived in his chamber, he found it empty. Only a small slip of paper resting on the table greeted him. Panic raced through him as he was sure it was a note from Morrigan telling him she had left again. Maybe the idea of marriage scared her away, but whatever the reason, he wasn't really surprised by the note's presence as he had always feared she would leave him. But that didn't make it feel any better. He slowly walked over to the table, mentally preparing his reaction to the bad news that awaited him. He reached out, picked up the paper, and unfolded it to reveal its contents.

It was written in Morrigan's handwriting. But it wasn't a note. It was a hand-drawn map of the castle with a large "X" marking a location with the words, "_Meet_ _me_ _here_" written next to them. Suddenly, he felt like the biggest moron in the world. He was really going to have to find a way to deal with his fear of her leaving him. Otherwise his fear could be the very thing that drove her away.

He folded the paper back up and placed it back on the table and out the door he went on his way to meet the witch, having already decided not to tell her about his incident with the note. He didn't need a map to know she was in the private dining hall in the east wing, on the second floor. He knew the room well, as his father had used it to entertain high ranking dignitaries from all Thedas. Apparently, the witch had something special planned for them.

The Warden approached the private dining hall and was greeted by a member of the wait staff who, with a bow, opened the door and gestured for The Warden to enter. When he passed through the door he saw the sight of his witch, wearing another new dress, sitting at a lone small table in the center of the room. The black silk garment seemed to shimmer in the light of a hundred candles as she sat there silent, her eyes doing the only speaking as they beckoned him to join her.

He took his place across from her and with a gesture from Morrigan, the attending staff began bringing in the meal and placing it on the table before the couple. The final item being a bottle of vintage Orlisian wine.

"What's all this?" The Warden asked.

"Seared pork loin on a bed of asparagus sauteed in virgin olive oil. 'Tis your favorite meal, is it not?"

"I can see that, but why?"

"Can I not simply do something nice for you without having an ulterior motive? Does the meal I prepared for you with my own hands not please you?" Morrigan answered, feigning insult.

"It's very nice and smells wonderful. Thank you. You didn't have to go through all that trouble just for me."

"Twas no trouble at all, my love. _You_ are worth it."

"What the hell is this girl up to?" The Warden thought, trying to figure out what the witch's angle was. "I must have done something to warrant all this." he said.

"'Tis been a good while since we've had any time to ourselves. Therefore, I arranged care for Seth for the evening so that we may spend some time together. My motivation being nothing more than my desire to be with you."

"I'm the luckiest man alive."

"Yes, you are." Morrigan said, casting a wicked grin at him, "And perhaps later tonight you shall get luckier, still."

"I like the sound of that." he replied, returning her grin with his own.

After a private supper, the pair retired to their chamber, where The Warden was indeed the recipient of a long and relaxing massage from the witch. So much so, that he nearly drifted off to sleep during the soothing rub down, causing Morrigan to give him a stiff pinch. The Warden quickly snapped out of his daze with a loud "Yeow!"

The Warden sat up, rubbing the stinging spot on his side. "What was that for?" he asked as he moved to sit on the side of the bed.

"I could not let you miss the best part, could I?" she said, seductively.

"Best part?"

Crossing her arms, each hand grabbing cloth, she pulled the dress up and over her head, removing it and tossing it aside. "Oh, have I missed seeing that." he said as his eyes drank in her naked body as she stood before him.

She moved closer to him and he put his arms around her, closing in and planting soft kisses against her stomach. "We have the entire night alone. Whatever shall we do?"

"You...are a minx." he said between kisses.

"That, I am." she agreed, her hands rubbing his shoulders and neck. Then she heard the sound that sent a shiver every time she heard it. He was taking in a deep breath which mean his intent was to do only one thing: torture her.

Unfortunately for Morrigan, The Warden knew her deepest and darkest secret and she hated the fact that he did. He had stumbled upon it by accident and had exploited it ever since. She would do anything to change it. It drove her absolutely mad. What he discovered was that Morrigan was very, very ticklish.

"Dwemer Cousland! Do not dare!" she exclaimed, but it was too late. He pursed his lips and began to blow on her navel, the single most sensitive spot on her entire body.

The witch jumped and danced in his arms as she hollered "Stop!" between fits of hysterical laughter. "I...I said stop! You...You evil...creature!" she said having a hard time catching her breath, the excruciating torture seeming to go on forever.

Just when the witch thought she could handle no more, he grabbed her and pulled her down beside him on the bed. "You are a wicked, wicked man." she said still giggling a bit. He leaned over her and kissed his witch passionately, taking a breast in his hand to fondle as he did so, eventually replacing his hand with his mouth while Morrigan moaned her approval.

He hastily removed what little clothing he still had on and climbed over her, their lips entwined in deep, forceful kisses. She opened her legs, granting him access to her. And as he slid between them, accepting her invitation, there came a loud "Bam! Bam! Bam!" at the door followed by someone yelling "Your Lordship! You are needed! It's urgent!" from the other side.

"Are you kidding me?" The Warden asked in disbelief, looking at the witch, "Maybe if we ignore them they'll go away."

There were more bangs against the door accompanied by more calls for The Warden.

"Go, my love. I shall be here when you return." Morrigan said with a heavy sigh.

"I'm coming!" he shouted at the door angrily as he hopped up and gathered his clothes off the floor.

As he rushed to put them on the man behind the door was becoming more urgent in his pleas for the Warden, "Hurry, My Lord! Darkspawn threaten!" he shouted.

"Darkspawn?! Here?" The Warden exclaimed in shock.  
"Your armor!" The witch shouted from the safety of the bed, having covered herself with the blanket.

"No time! Go get Seth!" he returned as he grabbed his blades and rushed out the door to greet one of the castle knights. Together they raced down the corridor to face the threat. Morrigan grabbed a robe, threw it around herself, and headed out the door to fetch her child.

With the knight at his side, The Warden quickly opened the large main doors to the castle and rushed outside, down the steps to the courtyard to find some of the castle guard already engaged with the darkspawn. "What's your status?" The Warden shouted to the Captain, Ser Reginald.

"The fifteen of us hold for now, Your Lordship, but there are many of them." the captain answered while still battling a hurlock grunt.

"Where's Fergus?" The Warden called back as his blades snuffed out the life of a small Genlock archer.

"He's at the main gate, My Lord. That's were the creatures first appeared. More soldiers were called to aid, but we were attacked here in the courtyard. The monsters crawled right out of the ground."

"They do that." The Warden replied.

First they would have to fight their way past the darkspawn in the courtyard, then The Warden and the knights could focus on aiding Fergus. Immediately, The Warden assumed control of the battlefield, directing a small group of knights to flank the darkspawn and drive them into the main group in a hammer and anvil strategy. The main group of castle knights kept the enemy distracted while five others could slip around behind the darkspawn, unseen. Upon receiving the signal from The Warden, the knights revealed themselves and attacked from behind, catching the darkspawn off guard. Even though the knights were heavily out numbered, the pincer maneuver forced the darkspawn to fight a battle on two fronts, rendering the interior units useless while the knights hacked away at layer upon layer of the dreadful beasts until the two forces of knights reunited again in the middle, leaving none of the darkspawn foes alive.

"Report!" The Warden shouted to the captain.

"Two men down, another three wounded, My Lord." Reginald informed.

"All who are able will follow me to the main gate to aid Fergus." The Warden ordered.

As the ten remaining knights accompanied The Warden to reinforce Fergus, Morrigan was hurrying through the corridors on her way to retrieve Seth from the nanny, whom the witch had arranged to care for the child for the night. As she ran down the steps and rounded the corner just outside the nanny's chamber, two hurlocks rose right out of the stone in front of her.

Morrigan had brought no weapon, not expecting to enter combat. But she still had her spells, more than enough to deal with the likes of the two darkspawn that drew near to her, their wicked sabers drawn, keen on peeling her flesh. The witch drew in air, cupped her palm in front of her face, and blew. An icy cold wind swept forth from her, consuming the hurlocks. Ice began to form on them as they tried in vain to resist the witch's magic. Soon they stood frozen in place, unable to move. Another spell flew forth from Morrigan's fingers as she flung a volatile ball of fire at the two statuesque darkspawn. The fireball exploded upon impact with the stone floor between the two hurlocks, blowing them both apart in frozen, bloody chunks that flew about the corridor.

The witch rushed to the nanny's door and flung it open. Inside the room she found the nanny crouched, hiding behind the bed holding the child in her arms. When she saw Morrigan, the nanny quickly stood up and offered the witch her son. Morrigan took Seth from the nanny and hurried out of the room, back the her chambers as that would be the best place to protect the baby. Mother and child were able to reach the room without further incident and waited there for The Warden's return.

Meanwhile, The Warden and the remaining knights arrived at the castle gate to find Fergus and the other contingent of castle guard atop the wall overlooking the gate, engaged in the darkspawn that were outside, raining down arrows and bolts upon the evil beasts. Just before The Warden and his men could reach the stairs to aid his brother, a group of darkspawn rose out of the ground before them.

With a quick gesture performed many times before, The Warden pulled both his blades from their sheaths across his back and readied them to cut down the first enemy he faced, a hurlock alpha. He swung his blades in a smooth motion, almost elegantly as he thrust the tip of his sword deep into the monster. But the alpha was a strong creature and shrugged off the injury as it narrowly dodged the second blade that went whizzing by its head.

The hurlock responded with a mighty elbow to the ribs of The Warden, sending him backwards and onto the ground. Raising its sword overhead, the alpha swung down, attempting to slice The Warden in two. The Warden managed to see the hurlock's attack and quickly roll out of the way, causing the alpha's blade to clank harmlessly against the ground. With a kick of his legs, The Warden hopped up only to have to jump out of the way of the alpha's blade as it slashed for him once again. The sharp sword sliced through The Warden's shirt and into his chest, ripping open a nasty gash and causing The Warden to cry out in agony.

The Warden had had enough of this creature. With one sword he forced the hurlock to block away from itself while his other was buried deep into the alpha's exposed gut. The force of the attack staggered the hurlock as The Warden swung around, bringing his free blade in perfect contact with the beast's neck, cleanly slicing its head from its body. With a "thump" the headless corpse fell to its knees, then toppled over, spewing dark blood all over the ground.

With the death of the alpha, the rest of the darkspawn were more easily dispatched. The ten knights, having all survived the skirmish, then proceeded up the stone steps on either side of the main gate. Once atop the wall they quickly joined the fray against the remaining darkspawn vermin that had tried to gain access to the castle by climbing up and over the high stone wall. Within several minutes all of the attackers had been slain, littering the castle grounds with many corpses and filling the infirmary with wounded.

"What the hell are darkspawn doing in Highever?" Fergus asked his brother afterward.

"I don't have any idea. Unless it has something to do with the orbs." The Warden replied.

"Like what? Could they have been after them?"

"I wish I knew."


	21. Chapter 21

**Part XXI**

For the last few days, Alistair had the strangest feeling gnawing at him. Something out there was calling to him. It was as if something inside him had awakened. What it was, the king had no clue. All he knew was the he had to find the source. To that end, he gathered up his best knights and traveled northwest, in the direction the feeling was pulling him. The bard, Leliana, still being in Denerim at the time, joined them.

About a days journey along the main road outside Denerim, the group happened to meet upon the old mage, Wynne and the apprentice Zakary. They were apparently headed to see The Warden at the royal palace about some urgent business. Alistair informed Wynne that The Warden and Morrigan had left for Highever a few weeks earlier.

"We're headed toward Highever now." The king said to Wynne, "The past few days I've had this eerie feeling that seems to pull me in that direction."

"What sort of feeling?" the old mage asked.

"I can't really describe it. It's almost like a voice in the back of my mind, only I can't make out what it's saying." Alistair answered, "The closer we get to Highever the stronger it becomes."

"Do you know if he has the Orbs of Arastani with him?"

"He still had them when he left Denerim."

The old mage's expression grew serious, "This is far worse than I feared. We must find them quickly, You're Majesty."

Alistair groaned, "Not you, too."

"It's something you're going to have to get used to being called, Alistair." Wynne said with a small grin.

"It still makes my skin crawl every time I hear it."

Wynne and Zakary accompanied the king as he traveled towards the northern coast, and Highever. Along the way, the old mage explained to Alistair the seriousness of the situation. And if what she told him was true, all of Ferelden was in danger. It was highly imperative that neither The Warden nor Morrigan ever use the orbs. But judging by the strange feeling Alistair had, it was already too late to hope for that. Wynne said that it was the orbs themselves that called to the king, attracting him. Just as they call to the darkspawn.

* * *

"What's your status?" the teyrn shouted to one of the knights.

"Three more men lost in the last attack, another five wounded, My Lord." the knight replied.

"Damn." Fergus muttered to himself. Over the past two days the castle had been subject to several darkspawn attacks. They didn't seem to be part of a larger, more coordinated effort, just several groups of the beasts working independently, each being bigger than the last. The most recent attack being the largest wave yet, numbering well over a hundred of the creatures. What the darkspawn were after, Fergus could only guess. Neither his brother, nor his witch could offer a definitive answer for the horde's appearance, except to say that they were both sure it had something to do with those blasted orbs.

It forced the teyrn into a difficult position. The entire time the orbs were at Castle Cousland, the castle and the surrounding area of Highever would be under the constant threat of the darkspawn. On the other hand, however, Fergus couldn't simply cast the orbs out. They would surely be a threat to all of Ferelden. At least in the castle they could be guarded. But for how long, the teyrn didn't know. He was rapidly losing men with each assault. Only forty five men of his entire castle guard remained. Nearly twenty men lay incapacitated in the infirmary, the witch, Morrigan, seeing to their care. She was proving to be a competent healer and nurse, even if her bedside manner was lacking.

There was only one thing Fergus could think to do, ask the king for aid and reinforcements. Without them, he was unsure how long the castle would stand. The few men he had remaining were set about the task of reinforcing the castle defenses. But their supplies would only last so long and they were losing men with each assault. Even on the fastest steed in would take a man almost two days to reach Denerim and at least another two to return with aid. That was if nothing went wrong and there were no delays. That meant they would have to hold the castle by themselves for at least another four days.

Fergus put pen to paper to ask for the king's aid, folded the paper and sealed it with wax, in which the teyrn pressed the Cousland family seal. He delivered the letter to a squire who ran through the corridors of the castle as quickly as his young feet would carry him, rushing through the large main doors and outside to the courtyard where he handed the note to a man on horseback. With a kick of his heels, the man spurred his horse into a rapid gallop as beast and man raced out of the castle gate, through the village of Highever, and down the main road, beginning their long journey to Denerim.

Inside the infirmary, The Warden was looking in on the wounded men, as well as the witch who was caring for them. Many of the soldiers were doing quite well and were in high spirits. Having a beautiful woman to care for them was not hurting matters, one of the men noted, causing the witch to proclaim, "These so-called 'men' are nothing of the sort. They are merely big babies who cry and whine at even the slightest discomfort."

"If I had you to take care of me, I would probably be the same way." The Warden said.

"I have cared for you, and you _are_." Morrigan said, as she reached up and grabbed The Warden's shirt, pulling it open. "Speaking of which, let's have a look at you." she said as she examined the bandage she had placed over his wound.

"I'll be fine." he replied as he shrugged away from her, "There are men here much worse off than me. They should be tended to first."

There were indeed men in the infirmary who were much worse off than The Warden. Some of whom would not make the night. Captain Reginald being among those men. He and his men were at the brunt of the last attack by the darkspawn and were overrun. They were making repairs to the main gate when a wave of the monsters came from nowhere, some scaling the wall while others attempted to smash the gate with a large log they used as a make-shift battering ram.

Reginald held the stairs by himself long enough to allow his men time to fall back to the courtyard, where the invaders were repelled. But in so doing, he paid a heavy price as more than one darkspawn blade found its mark. The captain was gravely wounded. Even with the witch's care he wouldn't survive much longer. He was one of the few survivors from the night of Howe's attack. The Warden had known the captain since they were both boys. Reginald's death would sting The Warden deeply. "How many more good men have to die because of me?" he asked the witch.

"I fail to see how any of this can be blamed on you." she answered.

"I should have died in Denerim. If I had, so many people would still be alive."

"You speak of your battle with the archdemon. You regret your decision, then?"

"If I had done my duty, none of this would have happened and nobody would be dead."

"Let me remind you that, had it not been for the ritual we performed that night, I would very likely be dead by Flemeth's hand, and you would have no son." Morrigan said, "Was it not you who was instrumental in Ferelden's rebuilding and reestablishing order? How many lives did that save?"

"This isn't something that just balances out. These were good men that died because of what I did." he countered

"Yes, they were. And I, too, regret their deaths. I still feel, however, the right decision was made."

"I wish I was as confident about it as you are."

"'Tis about stopping my mother. She poses a very real threat with or without the orbs. You stand a greater chance than anyone else of succeeding." she said to him as she grabbed his hand and held it, "Twas the right thing to do."

"I hope you're right."

* * *

Eleven men covered in shiny silver armor and a man covered in ornate golden armor, came riding through the main gate to Castle Cousland, accompanied by an old mage, a young apprentice, a red headed bard, and the messenger Fergus had only recently sent out. "King Alistair has arrived!" the heralds shouted, catching the attention of both the teyrn and The Warden.

Both men rushed out to the courtyard to greet the king as he and his men rode in. Fergus stood there is almost disbelief at how rapidly the response to his plea had been. It had only been a few hours since he sent out the messenger with the note asking for the king's aid. There was no possible way the rider could have made it to Denerim so fast, never mind there and back again. They did have a mage with them, though, so magic was most likely involved somehow, the teyrn reckoned.

"So, it's been calling to you, too?" The Warden said to Alistair as the king dismounted his steed.

"We were afraid that's what it was." Alistair replied.

"What are you talking about? Leliana, Wynne, what are you two doing here? It's not safe here right now. We've been under attack from darkspawn for the past two days."

"We know, Warden." the old mage said, "That's precisely why we've come. Where is Morrigan? I must speak to both of you at once."

"She in the infirmary, helping with the wounded."

"Morrigan? A nurse? She really has changed." Alistair said, feigning surprise.

As the group entered the castle they walked through the main hall and down the corridor to the makeshift infirmary that had been set up to treat the many wounded. They found the witch at the bedside of one of the more fortunate soldiers, offering to ease the poor man's pain with some hot broth. "Drink or don't. I care not which." Morrigan said forcefully to the laid up man, "However, if I catch you eying me in that fashion again, I shall slit your throat myself."

"I was wrong." Alistair said, "She hasn't changed a bit."

"'Tis good to see you as always, Alistair." the witch said sarcastically upon noticing the king and his entourage. "The orbs have called to you as well, have they?"

"I need to talk to you about that, Morrigan." Wynne said, "To both of you."

"What's going on, Wynne?" The Warden asked.

"I need to talk to you about the orbs." the old mage replied.

Wynne explained to Morrigan and The Warden about the true nature of the orbs. It seems that the old mage had become aware of Zakary's studies. After reprimanding the young apprentice for his foolishness, she looked over his research to see exactly what he had discovered. Upon learning of the orbs from the scrolls that Zakary had, Wynne combed through the tower's arcane vault, where the most rare, powerful, and dangerous texts were kept. After many hours of searching, she at last uncovered a text that covered the orbs in great detail.

The orbs original intent was to literally create a form for the gods. The Imperial Archon, himself, intended to use the orbs to bring the old god, Dumat to The Maker's Golden City and destroy the usurper deity. But The Maker proved too strong for them and Dumat was corrupted and transformed into the first archdemon instead.

Now the orbs bore the same taint as those who created them. Their new purpose being to create an archdemon worthy to lead the darkspawn horde. The smallest orb not only stole the souls of its victims, but acted as a beacon to the tainted once it was activated, alerting all darkspawn to the fact that one of the old gods had been found and a new archdemon would again lead the monstrous horde. The soul it stole would then be used as the power source that gave form to the demon. The second largest orb called out to the old god and drew its essence into the orb, ready to be made whole once more. The largest orb drew power from the soul held in the smallest and combined it with the essence of the god in the second orb, giving life and form to the archdemon. The victim's soul being consumed in the process.

"So how does that help Flemeth? Surely she's not trying to create another archdemon." questioned The Warden.

"I'm not sure how it could benefit Morrigan's mother. But the orbs would certainly give her the tools to draw out the essence of the god trapped in your son. How she would use them after that is a mystery." Wynne answered. "Now, though, I need to see where the orbs are being kept. I believe I have way of blocking, or at least limiting their call to the darkspawn."

"And to us as well, I hope." Alistair said, gesturing to The Warden, "The bloody things are giving me a headache."

From the infirmary, the witch led the group back through the castle and out to the courtyard. Once there she headed for cellar located along the east wall of the main building. Leo barked a happy greeting to Morrigan as she approached; The Warden stopping to give the animal a good pet and scratch. She flung open the doors to the cellar and proceeded down the stairs to her workspace. Once inside, Morrigan guided Wynne to the chest bathed in a blue aura. "I recognize that spell." the old mage said, "It's the same one I taught you. And from the looks of it I would have to say you are an excellent pupil. You've managed to keep the spell compact, yet retain it's original strength. Very good."

"It requires far less energy for me to maintain." the witch explained.

"I bet you would have been quite some apprentice."

"Perhaps. We shall never know." Morrigan replied, doing her best to sound polite.

"I can reinforce your field with one of my own and that should considerably dampen the orbs call to the darkspawn." Wynne reasoned.

Without another word, the old enchanter gathered the magical forces from within and focused them into the aura surrounding the chest, altering it and changing it's color from blue to a light green. "There. That should hold." Wynne said when she was finished, noticing the look of soothing relief the came over both the face of Alistair and The Warden. "It would be best if no further attempts to invoke the orbs were made."

"I will be unable to comply with your request. 'Tis most imperative that I make another attempt as soon as possible." Morrigan said, to the surprise of The Warden.

"You never said anything about trying again." he said.

"I've not had the opportunity to discuss the matter with you." she explained, "When you interrupted me on my first attempt, I was about to make contact with a mage that was trapped in a part of the Fade created and used by the orb. I had paid no mind to the incident until the other night when I heard a voice calling to me. I followed and was led here, to the cellar. Twas the same mage I was trying to contact previously. He had managed to find a way to contact me, but was weak and the connection was lost after a brief time."

"Trusting spirits from the Fade is a dangerous game." Wynne warned, "Rarely does any good come from it."

"I am aware of that. He, however, could prove to be quite helpful in our understanding of the orbs. Now that we are able to block the orbs attraction to the darkspawn, 'Tis worth the risk."

"What do you think, Wynne?" The Warden asked.

"Invoking the orb again will make its call to the darkspawn louder. It would take a quite a bit of effort to contain, but can be done."

"Then it's settled. As soon as we're sure the darkspawn have been taken care of, Morrigan will invoke the orb."

* * *

Over a day had passed and there had been no darkspawn attacks. It would seem that Wynne's improvement on Morrigan's magic was working. For the time being at least. No one knew what would happen when the witch invoked the orb's power again. In the meantime, The Warden felt it safe enough to make a quick trip to the build site of the cottage and show his friends he and Morrigan's future home. But when they arrived at the spot, they found the site had been totally demolished.

"It's completely ruined." The Warden said as he walked through the debris.

"Did the darkspawn do this?" Leliana asked.

"No, whatever did this was large. Look at the claw marks in the wood. Almost as if it was..."

"A dragon." Morrigan finished. "Twas no doubt my mother expressing her disapproval."

"She won't stop us. It can be rebuilt."

"To what end? For her to smash to bits yet again? As long as Flemeth lives we shall have no peace."

"What would you have me do, Morrigan?" The Warden asked of his witch.

"'Tis obvious: Flemeth must be dealt with, once and for all." Morrigan answered in a very matter-of-fact tone "I will see her game brought to an end. And when I make contact with the mage Verzanell, he shall give me the means to do exactly that."

"That's if he can even be trusted." The Warden added.

"Fear not, my love. I've a feeling this spirit seeks our aid as much as we seek its."

"What gave you that impression?"

"'Tis impossible to express in terms you could comprehend. Suffice to say that I could feel his soul whilst the orb allowed me to travel the Fade. 'Tis how I initially located him." Morrigan tried to explain.

"And you felt that this Verzanell would help us?"

"Yes."

"You're right. I don't understand."

"Leave all to me." The witch said as she gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

Once back at the castle, Morrigan and Wynne spent the better part of the day making preparations for another attempt to invoke the orb. Fresh runes and glyphs had to laid with each attempt as the magic they contained faded with time. The proper incense needed to be lit and the entire area had to be cleansed and properly prepared. Even the amount of light in the room was critical. But with the added protection of Wynne's magic, the witch felt confident that she would meet with success.

Both mages, young and old, as well as the apprentice, withdrew themselves into solitude to mentally prepare for the evening's activities. It would require complete and total control from all of them. Even the slightest lapse in focus could prove fatal. And after hours of complete isolation and mediation, the three emerged ready to begin.

Morrigan, Wynne, and Zakary stood alone in the cellar. In the center of the room lie the table with the orb perch atop its pedestal. Morrigan took up her position several feet from the table, while Wynne stood still further back behind the witch. Zakary carefully watched from off to the side. His role was vital and he was unsure if he was up to the task. For while Morrigan invoked the orb, Wynne would contain her within a magical aura to cancel out the orb's call to the darkspawn. It was up to the apprentice to cast a protective layer over the witch to prevent the spirit from being able to posses her as well as inhibiting the orb's ability to devour Morrigan's soul.

It was actually a relatively basic spell of protection used in many rituals. But Zakary had never been forced to use it when the situation had called for perfection or someone could die. Normally he cast the spell only when another apprentice was practicing fire or ice spells or some other kind of harmful magic, and required a buffer. Wynne had assured him he would do just fine. The young apprentice, with a good amount of effort, was finally able to shove the thoughts out of his mind and regain his focus for the task at hand.

With a gesture and a bright flash, Wynne covered the witch and the table in a green aura, while Zakaray muttered the incantation to protect Morrigan from any of the ritual's harmful effects. As before, Morrigan gathered her power, focusing it, reaching out the the orb with it. And once again, the orb began to come alive. The bright red glow filled the room and washed over those within. And as the orb began to rise into the air, the witch started to seek out Verzanell. "_Can you hear me? I've returned._" she sent out to him.

There was a bright flash and a wave of energy burst forth from the orb, its wind rustling the garments of the mages gathered. A form began to materialize in front of Morrigan, the form of a man. It seemed as though the form was intelligent and was attempting to gain a better foothold on the corporeal realm as it finally came into focus, revealing a young man wearing the robe of a Tevinter Imperium mage. "_You finally did it!_" the apparition said.

"You are Verzanell, are you not?" the witch asked the spirit.

"_I am. And I know what your mother is after._"

It would only be reasonable to assume that Verzanell was aware of Flemeth as he had probably "felt" Morrigan just as she had him "And pray, what might that be?" she inquired.

"_Your mother seeks to free the soul of the god-child so that he may be made whole on Earth_."

"How do you mean?"

"_Flemeth intends to undo the curse on the orbs and restore them to their original state. To do that she'll need to use a specific kind of soul. One that is both pure and black_."

"Like my son's." the witch noted.

"_Perhaps._" Verzanell replied. "_This will allow her to create a form for the old god to manifest itself into."_

"What then? Surely such a creature would pose quite a prize for my mother."

"_I know nothing of your mother's intentions afterward._"

"And what do you ask in return for this information?" Morrigan asked, knowing there were strings attached.

"_You are quite perceptive_." the spirit admitted, "_All I ask is that you allow the sacrifice to occur, cleansing the orbs. But kill the god before it has a chance to completely take form._"

"And what will this accomplish?"

"_It will set all those trapped within this orb free. We will be allowed to pass from this world and take our appointed place in the next._"

"You are asking me to sacrifice my child. 'Tis a steep request. One I can hardly see myself fulfilling." the witch said, her voice beginning to shake, as if speaking required great effort; the ritual obviously starting to take it's toll on her.

"_Make no mistake. You will be forced to choose between what you love and what is right. When that time comes, I can only hope you chose well._." Those being the last words Verzanell spoke, vanishing as Morrigan was completely drained and unable to maintain her connection with the orb.

The effort had sapped her greatly and she was soaked with sweat and weak. The witch was barely able to make it up the short flight of stairs leading out of the cellar under her own power, falling to her knees and vomiting once outside.

The Warden, seeing her, rushed to her side to offer assistance, but was met with an outstretched hand that kept him at bay. He froze in his spot, looking at her and wanting to help. She tried to stand, but was too weak and slumped back to her knees, cursing herself. She finally stretched out her hand to him again, this time palm up, seeking his aid. He took her hand and held her as she stood, pulling her up. Once on her feet, Morrigan lay against The Warden, giving him almost her full weight. "It would seem that you were correct." she said weakly.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, confused by her comment.

"It would seem that even I require assistance on occasion."

"I hate to say I told you so." he said, grinning.

"A fact I am sure you will continually remind me of."

"Shh. Enough talking." he told her as he helped her walk to their chambers, "You need to rest right now." Morrigan didn't argue with him. She was totally exhausted but the effort had not been in vain. Thanks to Verzanell, the pieces were beginning to fall into place. They now knew what Flemeth planned to do with the orbs, and how she was going to do it. The only question that remained was "why?".

* * *

Three days had passed since the last darkspawn attack and Morrigan was in the infirmary looking in on the few men that remained. All of the men who were going to die from their wounds had already done so, and those with less serious conditions had been relocated to different quarters, some had even returned to duty. The men who remained were still too weak to be moved or had other more severe, injuries.

One of the men complained of a chill and asked for an extra blanket. Noticing that she was the only one in the infirmary to attend to the man's request, she was forced to fetch the item herself. With a grumble she set off out the door and around the corner to one of the empty rooms that the witch had converted into a supply room for the infirmary. She grabbed the handle on the door, gave a hard yank and it swung wide upon. Morrigan hurriedly walked inside the poorly lit room, seeking to complete the task as expediently as possible, and immediately began to scan the room for blankets. Upon locating one, she reached out, plucked it off the shelf and turned to head out of the room.

"Why the rush, child?" a voice said to her from deep in the blackness of the room, "Surely you can't be in such a hurry as not to have time to talk?"

"I've no time for your games _mother_." the witch replied, recognizing the voice. "You will state your purpose."

"Fine. Be that way if it pleases you." the old hag returned, imitating scorn.

"We are aware of your intent with the orbs."

"Are you now?" Flemeth, stepping closer to her daughter, "Or perhaps you are a fool and are aware of nothing."

"What do you mean?"

"Come now, my daughter. This childish charade of yours must end. You've had your fun but 'tis time to do what you were always destined for."


	22. Chapter 22

**Part XXII**

"I was wondering if you could help me with something." The Warden asked the old enchanter, Wynne, as they stood in the corridor between the main hall and the courtyard doors. They were both on their way to meet with Alistair and Fergus in the main hall as to what to do about the orbs and Flemeth. Morrigan, having elected not to join the meeting, opted instead to look in on the wounded men still in the infirmary. She deemed the gathering pointless as Flemeth was obviously watching them and would be aware of any plans they made.

"I'll try if I can." she replied in her gentle manner.

"See, I want to get Morrigan something nice for her birthday." he explained.

"I don't know how much help I can be with that." Wynne said slightly surprised he would seek her help on such a topic, "When is her birthday?"

"Well, that's the problem. I don't know...and neither does she."

"Ah, I see. So it appears the witch and I have some things in common after all."

"I thought you of all people might appreciate the fact."

"I do. But I don't understand how I could be of any service to you."

"Isn't there some way you could use magic to divine a way to look into the past and find out?"

"Messing with spells that affect time is tricky business."

"Please, Wynne. There has to be some way. It would really mean a lot to me." he pleaded with the mage.

The old enchanter sighed deeply. "I will look into the matter and see what I can do."

"Thanks, Wynne. I owe you. And I'd appreciate it if you not tell Morrigan about it."

"I won't say anything."

It had always been Chasind tradition to mark only the year of a child's birth, not the specific day. Morrigan wasn't even that fortunate. Flemeth had never disclosed to her what her exact age was. The witch wasn't even aware such a thing was even kept track of until her first ventures into the human lands. When she would ask her mother about it, Morrigan was merely told it was a foolish and pointless human ritual. The anniversary of one's birth was hardly a thing to commemorate.

Morrigan had suspected that Flemeth's response was out of the hag's own ignorance, since the witch often thought her mother had snatched her away from some unlucky family as an infant. So every year, from the time Morrigan reckoned she was about ten years of age, she made a mark on a small, thick wooden dowel on the winter solstice. Only The Warden knew how many marks were on the dowel, which she still carried, and he wasn't saying.

The old mage and The Warden proceeded the rest of the way in silence to the meeting, the main topic of which was finding a way to lure Flemeth out into the open. Once exposed, The Warden would confront her. No more hiding. No more games. While it seemed a good idea at the time, it was proving more difficult to execute. None of them could think of a way to force the hag to make her move. Flemeth was a cunning foe and snaring her would be no easy task. The only hope they had was if Flemeth made a mistake. And Flemeth _never_ made mistakes. So, without making any headway and the hour getting late, they decided to break for the night and reconvene in the morning. While the others retired to their respective quarters, The Warden made his way to the courtyard to get some fresh air and clear his mind.

He was still pondering their next best tactic, his legs automatically taking him to a place he'd been thousands of times, as he rounded the final corner. He wrapped his hands around the cold steel handles and yanked the doors open with a loud creak. He passed through the large doorway and walked down the steps leading the the courtyard. Moonlight washed over the castle, bathing the courtyard in an eerie light. As he neared the base of the steps he noticed someone was already out there, gazing up at the stars. It was his witch.

* * *

"I'll not be your willing pawn any longer." Morrigan affirmed, trying to show her mother a fearless front.

"Willingly or not, you are still mine. And until you're duties to me are fulfilled there shall be no release." the hag replied in an ominous tone.

"I belong to no one. My life is my own."

"Did your precious Grey Warden tell you that?" Flemeth said with a cackle,"What sort of other silly nonsense has he filled your head with? Look at you. You've grown soft and weak."

"I can demonstrate how 'weak' I am if you so choose." Morrigan quipped.

"This is going to be far more fun than I had originally hoped. You are a perfect match for each other." the hag said as she broke out into a fit of hysterical laughter. "This more than makes up for the lyrium I wasted bringing you two together."

"Lyrium? Of what do you speak?" Morrigan asked, stunned. "You placed an enchantment on The Warden and myself?"

"Why else would I have needed the lyrium? Silly, child."

"A love spell?"

"That term fits as good as any, I suppose."

"When...why did you do this?"

"I had to ensure my investment. You were sent to perform a task and I was merely aiding you in completing it."

"You lie."

"Believe what you wish, it makes no difference to me."

"You are only trying to confuse me, to get me to lower my guard so you can steal my son."  
The old hag began laughing loudly at Morrigan's statement. "Steal your son?" Flemeth said, "Why ever would I steal your son, 'Tis much easier to simply have you give him to me willingly."

"You would sacrifice my child to the orbs."

"I would do no such thing. All I seek is that which is contained within him. He will not be harmed in the process." the hag assured.

"Verzanell had said you intended to purify to orbs."

"And who is this Verzanell, I wonder?".

"A mage within the orb with whom I was able to communicate."

"A mage from the Fade? And you believed him? _Ha_!" Flemeth said, amused.

"He had given me no reason not to." the witch explained.

"Foolish child. I thought I taught you better." the hag muttered as she turned to head back into the shadows, "Your fairy tale has run it's course. Be thankful for what I have given you, my daughter, but 'tis time to fulfill your obligation." And then she was gone. Flemeth had vanished without a trace, leaving Morrigan alone in the supply room.

The witch just stood there for a minute, absorbing the encounter. Almost like a zombie, she shambled ahead, carelessly tossing the blanket to the wounded man as she passed the infirmary on her way to the courtyard to get some fresh air to clear her head. "Twas all a lie." she thought to herself as she stood in place, staring at the stars in the clear sky.

She had been standing there contemplating for a some time when she heard the large wooden doors to the main building swing open, followed by the sound of someone walking down the stairs and approaching her. It was him, she was sure of it. How could she tell him that everything they thought they had never existed? It was all based on a lie. If not for Flemeth's meddling they would have never come together.

It actually made sense to Morrigan. They were polar opposites, The Warden and she. They had no sense thinking they should be together. It was all so obvious to the witch now. She heard his steps getting louder and soon she felt the familiar sensation of his arm wrapping around her.

"You will remove your hand from me." she said in a cold flat tone.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked, puzzled at the witch.

"Why must it always be me who is at fault? Can it not be that I am tired of you continually grabbing me as though I am some piece of meat, merely here for your pleasure?"

"There is definitely something going on here. Talk to me. Tell me what it is."

"I've simply seen our folly for what it is, nothing more than a childish fantasy with no basis in truth."

"Morrigan...why are you talking like that? _What the hell is wrong with you_?" he asked desperate to find the source of the witch's attitude.

"I've decided 'tis time to grow up. I suggest you do the same."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means I've had my fill of this whole business. You may keep your love and all its insipid activities."

"Where is all this coming from? What happened?"

"I cannot make up my own mind? You think me so dimwitted I need aid to see the obvious?"

"That's not what I meant and you know it. You're twisting my words on purpose. Why?"

"I've grown tired of you. Twas entertaining for a time, but alas, you bore me. You are only making this harder than it needs to be."

"So, just like that, you're done. No warning or anything."

"Had I given you prior notice you would only have attempted to prevent it."

"And we couldn't have that now could we?" he asked sarcastically.

"No, we could not." she answered flatly.

"You can't just leave. What about your mother?"

"I will handle my mother. I am not so frail as you think me."

"I never said you were, but you're acting crazy."

"Crazy am I? How convenient a term for when I do something you do not agree with."

"So what happened to all the talk about you never wanting to be away from me. What about spending the rest of our lives together?"

"I lied. I do that on occasion."

"Fine. Go. I knew you would."

"Perhaps, then, you should have paid closer attention to your intuition."

* * *

The Sun was bright in the sky that morning, casting down its golden rays quickly burning away the chill of night previous night. The Warden sat on the stone steps next to the main gate, his hands supporting his chin as he stared blankly back at the castle. No matter where he looked, or what he looked at, everything appeared to be the same lifeless gray color. There were no sweet smells in the air. The singing of the birds fell upon deaf ears. Nothing mattered. He didn't care anymore.

The witch made her way, with her belongings slung over her back and child in her arms, down from the courtyard to the main gate. She stopped at the gate and looked at The Warden as he sat motionless on the steps. "If you attempt to locate me again, I shall kill you myself." she warned him.

"Whatever." was all he replied, causing Morrigan to pause.

"I...I do regret that it had to be like this. Twas not my wish to hurt you."

"Whatever." he repeated, still staring blankly off into space.

"So be it." she said with an angry scowl and stormed through the gate and out of his life once again. It was fortunate that he was not facing her, otherwise he would have seen her trying cover her face, tears streaming down her cheeks. She had meant to ensure their complete separation, and she had succeeded. It was better this way, she told herself. Had she told him of Flemeth's spell there would be every possibility that he would still not see the truth and claim that Flemeth's meddling was unimportant. Morrigan knew better. She would not live a lie. So she did the only thing she could think to do. In time, the magic of Flemeth's spell would fade and even if he didn't realize it yet, eventually he would come to see the wisdom of her actions.

Then there was the matter of Flemeth. The witch reasoned that the best strategy would be to keep the orbs and the child apart of one another. It was why Morrigan made no attempt to take the orbs, even leaving the shield around the chest intact. The mage, Wynne, was more than competent enough to see to their proper care. At the very least, separating Seth from the orbs would prevent Flemeth from being able to obtain both her goals at once. And Morrigan was positive that she would be running into her mother sooner, rather than later.

The witch had grown considerably more powerful over the course of her relationship with The Warden. The grimoire of Flemeth's that he had given her was largely responsible, but in this instance, would be quite useless. It was one of the reasons why Morrigan had learned what she could from the other mages she encountered since leaving the wilds. She had known for some time that she would have to confront her mother and those new spells were her best bet for keeping her mother at bay.

The castle was becoming ever smaller behind her as Morrigan walked down the empty road leading west out of Highever. She would stick close to the coast as she traveled out of Ferelden and across the Walking Sea on her way north to the Free Marches. There was no single organized government there, only a loose collection of city states. It would be a simple thing to vanish into the wilderness. If The Warden ever did try to seek her out again, she was going to make sure he failed.

* * *

"I heard what happened." Leliana said as she sat next to The Warden on the steps. He had been in his spot on the steps all day and now the Sun was setting in the distance, casting long shadows across the castle. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked.

He looked over at her and smiled. "I'm fine. I'll be alright." he answered.

"Are you sure? You don't have to play the tough guy with me, you know."

"Really, I'm fine." he reiterated, trying hard to sound reassuring. "I do appreciate you asking though."

"I'm here if you need me." she said, returning his smile.

"Thanks."

"So what now? What will you do with the orbs?"

"I guess I spend the rest of my life protecting them from Flemeth."

"Another item to add to the long list of things you protect us from." the bard noted.

He cast a smile over at the bard and stood from his spot on the steps overlooking the main gate. It was apparent his mind was still elsewhere as he slowly placed one foot in front of the other walking down the stairs. Once at ground level, The Warden started in the direction of the cellar in order to look in on the mabari and the orbs one final time for the day.

Leo barked excitedly at the approach of The Warden, who stopped and visited with the beast, making sure to give the animal a good long scratch behind his ears. The Warden grabbed one of the torches from it's place along the wall, lifted open the doors to the cellar, and headed inside. The room was completely dark except for the light from his torch. The place had not been in use since Morrigan last invoked the smallest orb. But even still there was always the soft glow of the magic barrier that surrounded the chest. Strangely the glow was absent.

The Warden rushed over to where the orbs should be only to find an empty shelf. The chest that contained the orbs was gone. Apparently the witch had taken them with her after all. At this point nothing Morrigan did surprised him. It seemed she had planned to continue her study of the artifacts. Maybe it was for the best, he thought. Morrigan would find a way to hide both the orbs and Seth away from her mother.

He still had a hard time believing the fact that she was simply tired of him. That would seem to point to it all being merely a game to the witch. He was sure that was what she wanted him to think, but he knew better. It had meant more to her than she let on. There had to be something that set her off. He just couldn't figure out what that was.

Maybe it was best to leave her be this time. Apart from her threat about killing him, why look for her if she would just vanish again? And what about Seth? She had left with his son without even letting him say goodbye. The Warden hoped that Morrigan would at least have the decency to allow him to see his son should they decide to seek each other out one day.

These were things the old Morrigan would do. She was acting the same way she did when they first met in the Korcari Wilds. Same tone, same attitude, same everything. But there was a difference, albeit small. He had spent more than enough time around the witch to be able to tell. For all her ranting, he still felt like she didn't mean a word she said. But Morrigan was as hardheaded as they came and would never admit it.

He abruptly cursed himself for being so gullible. She was gone. She had taken their son and left. It was only wishful thinking on his part to believe she ever held anything for him at all. He was never more than a fool and everyone but him had known it all along. Alistair, Wynne, Leliana, and the others had all warned him about her.

In his infinite wisdom he told them all that he had it under control. They didn't know her like he did. She was changing and becoming a better person. The witch was learning what friendship, compassion, and love were, he assured them. What a fool he was. He swore to himself an oath that she would never again manipulate his heart.

* * *

The inn was filthy, cramped, and filled with drunkards and ruffians of the worst sort. Still, it was the only place for Morrigan to find shelter for the child and herself for the night. She and Seth had been traveling west for over a day, the witch trying to put as much distance between herself and The Warden as fast as she could. So many times she stopped to turn around and run back to him, only to find a way to convince herself to keep moving. Her mother's magic was powerful, indeed. It would be some time before Morrigan was able to shake off its affects.

Their room was small and sparsely furnished. There was a table, two chairs, and a bed with stained sheets. The aroma of urine permeated the entire room and seemed to come from everywhere. The witch began to wonder if she had rented a bed for the night, or a lavatory. Still it was far warmer than it was outside in the chill of the coastal air and it was only for a night. She and the child would be heading out again after dawn.

They were still too close to Highever and staying in one place for too long was risky. She hadn't been recognized yet, but as The Warden's consort and as a free mage possessing the writ, she had grown more famous than she liked. As long as she stayed in Ferelden there was a chance someone would spot her and know who she was. It was best if she and Seth left as soon as possible.

"Do not stare at me in that manner." Morrigan said to the child as he laid in her arms, large golden orbs transfixed on his mother. "You know full well what I did was best for us all."

The babe did not respond, only continuing to stare up at Morrigan. "What would you have me do?" She asked, "Twas a lie. Were it not for Flemeth's spell your father and I would never have come together."

Still, Seth said nothing. His only response was a look that seemed to say _You are a fool, Mother. You threw away your best chance at happiness because of pride_.

"One day, my son, you shall understand." she replied.

And as night came to the coastal north, Morrigan and child huddled together in their small room awaiting the dawn. Everything around Morrigan seemed to blissfully melt away as her exhausted body collapsed on the bed and she soon drifted off into the world of dreams. Seth was still the entire night, which was a first as far as the witch could remember. Normally when The Warden was absent, the child barely slept at all. But on this occasion he lay quiet the entire night.

Despite the quiet, Morrigan's slumber was hardly restful. Her dreams plagued her with images of The Warden. His emotionless face blankly staring at her. No matter what she did or what she said, his reaction was but a single word, "Whatever."

She began to become angry with him. He had some nerve entering her dream and being such an ass. If he wasn't going to do anything else then he could just leave. But he refused to cooperate with her at any level. Only staring blankly and repeating that one word over and over until it drove the witch mad. She screamed at him at the top of her lungs for him to leave. She shouted for him to leave her be. As Morrigan stood before him, huffing and fuming, another sound started to fill the air.

At first it was nothing more than a chuckle, then a giggle, but before long it had developed into a full-blown riotous laughter. Morrigan swung around to find her mother standing behind her. The witch angrily demanded that Flemeth explain her presence. Why had the hag come to invade her dreams as The Warden had done?

"I've only come to tell you that 'tis time to wake up." Flemeth said.

Morrigan eyed her mother curiously. "Whatever do you mean?" she said. Looking around, the witch noticed that both Flemeth and The Warden were now gone. She was sitting up in the small bed but she was no longer in the same small room as the night before. To the witch's horror, the dingy room had been replaced with a prison cell and she was trapped within.

Frantically she searched the room for her son, not finding any trace. "_No_!" she yelled as panic began to set in.

"You sound upset, my daughter. Tell me what troubles you." Flemeth said from the outside the cage. "Do you not like your accommodations? And after I went through such toil."

"Twas an illusion. The inn, the room, all of it." Morrigan replied through the bars.

"How perceptive of you. It would seem your skills are as keen as ever, even if your judgment is not."

"You will tell me what you have done with my son." the witch demanded, causing the old hag to chuckle a bit.

"Your precious babe is safe, and will remain so. As soon as his services to me are finished I shall return him to you."

"You've stolen my child!" Morrigan exclaimed, "You said I would give him to you willingly."

"And so you have, girl." Flemeth said, "Was it not by your own choice that you left the safety of the castle and walked right into my snare?" the hag explained with a cackle, "Twas truly far easier this way, don't you think?"

"So you lied. You tricked me into leaving knowing full well I could never permit myself to be with him if our union was based purely on a spell."

"Twas no lie. I did cast the enchantment. Had you been listening you would no doubt remember that I said the lyrium was _wasted_."

"Wasted? How so?"

"The spell was a success as it was cast, but a failure in execution."

"Enough riddles, old woman. Tell me what went wrong with the spell."

"You." Flemeth answered, "Both you and that damned warden of yours. You resisted the spell for it's entire duration."

"I do not understand. If our union occurred as you wished, how then was the spell a failure?"

"While your warden lay unconscious in our hut, I placed the enchantment on him as I healed the wounds he sustained at Ostagar. When he awoke he was to have eyes for none but you."

"And me? You said you had placed it upon me as well. When did you do this?"

"Twas a simple enough matter. We did live together after all. I simply placed a small amount of the concoction I brewed into the ingredients you were using to make the stew for that night's supper. You did the rest yourself, albeit unknowingly. The enchantment was only meant to last a short while, more than enough to coax the two of you together, or so I thought. Imagine my surprise as you both exited the hut showing no signs of the magic's affects. By the time you left for Lothering the affects of the spell had long since faded."

"That would mean..." Morrigan said in a sudden and horrendous realization.

"Yes, my daughter. You fell in love _anyway_." the old hag confirmed with a cackle. "There was only one way the spell would have failed in such a manner; he had already been smitten by you _before_ I placed the enchantment."

"And apparently, I by him." the witch uttered weakly as her head dropped, eyes staring at the floor.

Flemeth once again broke into hysterical laughter. "At last, you see what a fool you are."


	23. Chapter 23

**Part XXIII**

The Warden was trying his best to appear like he wasn't sulking. On the outside he put on a brave face, engaging his friends in as normal a manner as he possibly could. Deep down, however, his pride was severely bruised. All he really wanted to do was lock himself up away from the rest of the world and hide. But he refused to. He wasn't going to give the witch the satisfaction. If she thought he was going to tuck his tail between his legs and whimper, she had thought wrong. So he chatted and talked and did his best to show everyone he was fine. All the while his heart sat in his chest like a lifeless rock, nothing more than a stone lump.

Sooner or later, Leliana would see through his ruse, if she hadn't already. Fortunately he had already thought of a plan to counter the bard. When the time came he knew exactly what to do. It was the one thing that she would never see coming. It was foolproof. In the meantime, though, he was on his way to meet with Fergus. The teyrn wished to know what The Warden planned to do about the heir to the Cousland Teyrnir being whisked away. The Warden knew it was nothing more than a thinly veiled attempt by Fergus to check on his brother's well being, but humored the teyrn anyway.

Fergus was waiting for him in the main hall, and when The Warden arrived, he quickly rose from his chair by the fire and walked over to greet his brother. "Dwemer, glad you could make it." the teyrn said as his outstretched hand clasped The Warden's.

"What was it you needed to see me about?" The Warden asked his brother.

"Why all the rush to get straight to business." Fergus said, placing his hand on his brother's back an guiding towards the table. "Come and sit. We haven't seen each other in days."

"Fergus..."

"What? Is it so bad for me to want to spend some time with my brother?"

"Alright. I guess I can talk for a minute."

"Only a minute? What's your hurry?" questioned the teyrn as both men sat at the end of a long table, which was covered with a feast of pig, pheasant, and dishes made from the most exotic vegetables seasoned with rare herbs.

"I'll be leaving soon."

"Leaving? For where?"

"I'll be going back east to the lands Alistair gave to the Grey Wardens. It's time I started getting back to my duties and the first order of business is filling the ranks of the Wardens."

"What about your son? You can't seriously tell me you have no intentions of looking for him."

"It was made very clear to me that my presence was no longer welcome. I'll look for him one day, when he's old enough that she can't get in the way."

"She? She who?" Fergus asked, baiting his brother.

"You know who." The Warden answered, failing to be lured.

"Look at you. You can't even say her name. Go on, say it. _Morrigan_. It's not that hard."

"Here we go." The Warden said as he rolled his eyes at his brother.

"What?" Fergus responded.

"You know damned well what. Here comes another lecture from all-wise big brother."

"If you weren't being such a short-sighted ass you could see how stupid you're acting and I wouldn't have to."

"Gee, Fergus. Why don't you tell me how you really feel?"

"That right there. That's exactly what I'm talking about. You always were a stubborn little shit."

"You're one to talk."

"I'm not the one running off sulking like a coward."

"Go to hell." The Warden fumed at his brother and got up from the table. Fergus gestured to the guards beside the doorway and they moved in and lowered their pikes, blocking The Warden as he was storming out.

"Out of my way or so help me I'll..."

"You'll what? Kill them?" Fergus finished. "We both know you can. But does your pride mean so much to you that you would?"

"You don't understand."

"_I_ don't understand?" the teyrn said, flabbergasted. "You're not the only one who lost someone they loved, you know. I bet you haven't even been inside the larder yet."

"No. I haven't." The Warden replied as he turned to face his brother. "What do you want me to do, Fergus? She took my son and left. They meant everything to me, but it was nothing but a game to her. You tell me how I'm supposed to feel about that."

"I can't tell you that. That's something only you can figure out. But you need to stop being such a selfish prick and talk to your friends. They've been worried about you. But they adore you for some strange reason and none of them has the stones to give you the kick in the arse you need...I do. They're leaving in the morning so you don't have much time."

"I'll talk to them." The Warden said. The teyrn gestured once more and the guard resumed their previous positions alongside the door. "But I'm not going after her this time." The Warden stated with conviction as he started to walk out of the room.

"That's your choice. Make sure you don't regret it." Fergus warned.

* * *

The window was just a bit too high for Morrigan to be able to get a good view of the surrounding countryside, having to stand tip-toe just to see over the edge. The witch grumbled to herself. Normally she would just change into a bear, and with the much larger body, clearly be able to see out the barred window. Or she could change into a sparrow and slip between the bars and fly away. But Flemeth had done something to either her, the cell, or both and none of her powers and abilities worked. She was trapped and virtually clueless as to where she was.

She had been Flemeth's pawn the entire time and it infuriated her. Her inexperience with love led her to being easily tricked by her mother into doing the most stupid thing she had ever done. In hindsight, Morrigan decided that she could have learned to live with knowing she and The Warden were only together by enchantment. But it was far too late for that now. Her pride and stubbornness had gotten the best of her and she was sure there was no hope of reconciliation. To make matters worse, she now knew beyond any doubt what they had was real.

If there was any chance, the witch promised herself, she was going to set things right. No more pride. No more walls. She would beg his forgiveness on her knees in front of all Ferelden if that's what it took. She would never again give him cause to doubt her.

First, though, and more pressing, was getting out of the cell she was in and finding Seth. That was proving to be far harder than Morrigan initially anticipated. Despite it's obvious age, the cage which held her was still very sturdy. There were no rusted hinges to work with or loose bars that could be wiggled free. She was unable to find anything that she could fashion into a lock pick of any sort, not that she could pick the lock anyway. Morrigan had been witness to Leliana as the bard picked locks of all types. Unfortunately, the witch paid little mind, as she was usually too busy staring at The Warden when she thought he wasn't looking.

Frustrated and depressed, she plopped down on the bed to consider her next move.

Morrigan hated feeling helpless, but that's precisely what she was. With no escape from her prison possible, there was no way for her to rescue her child. She would have to wait for help, except help wasn't coming. Unlike in the past when The Warden would ride to her rescue, this time she was on her own. And for once she truly wished she wasn't. She swore she would hold the tears back this time. If her mother saw her in such a state, Flemeth would certainly do nothing but cause the witch grief. But as so often was the case in recent months, the tears flowed anyway.

She had nothing left. Her world had been blown apart. So in her despair, and having no one else to turn to, Morrigan did the unthinkable. The witch closed her eyes and _prayed_. "I know not if you are listening, or if you would even hear one such as I." she began, "But I've nowhere else to turn. I've been such a fool and made a complete mess of everything." she opened her eyes to look out the small window to her prison, seeing the sparkle of the stars against the clear night sky, "Please tell him how sorry I am. Tell him that were I permitted to do it again, things would be different. Tell him...tell him that I need him...and that... I love him...please."

* * *

"Hey, Red." The Warden said to Leliana, having found her in the atrium. He was making the rounds to his friends before they all left to tell them one-on-one that he was fine and that, while their concern was appreciated, was unwarranted.

"Dwemer, I'm glad you found me. I was wanting to speak to you before I left." she replied

"I heard you were leaving in the morning. Trying to get away from me so soon?"

"I need to get back to the chantry in Denerim. I still have some things there I need to take care of. But I wanted to make sure you're holding up before I left." the bard answered, her Orlisian accent thick with concern.

"I told you, I'll be fine." he assured.

"You're not very good at lying, you know that?" she said, raising her eyebrow at him.

"I've been told that before."

"You think I can't tell you've been pretending to be fine since Morrigan left?"

"Leliana, _I'm_ _fine_. Honest."

"No you're not and everyone but you knows it."

"Maybe I've had other things on my mind."

"Oh really? Like what?" Leliana questioned.

"Like maybe I was thinking you could join me for a quiet dinner this evening. Just the two of us."

"That sounds awfully romantic for a dinner between friends." the bard noted.

"Who says we can't be more than friends?" The Warden said, his words flooring the bard. She had to mentally confirm to herself the he actually said what she heard.

"Dwemer...don't." she said weakly.

"What? I thought that's what you wanted."

"More than you know. But we both know it would be a lie. You're only doing this because she hurt you, not because of any feelings you have for me."

"That's not true. I _do_ have feelings for you. I always have."

"Not the right kind, though." the bard said, looking him straight in the eye. "I'll always be just friend to you and we both know it. Your heart belongs to someone else."

"She left, remember? My heart doesn't belong to anyone anymore. But it could."

"No, Dwemer. I won't let you do this. I'm not going to let you throw away your happiness because you're too proud to admit that you need her."

"I don't need her." The Warden stated coldly.

"Yes, you do." the bard replied, "You spend so much time trying _not_ to think about Morrigan that it consumes you. You're so rigid and stiff anymore. Everything you say sounds forced and fake. Face it, you miss her a lot more than you're letting on."

"So what if I do? It's not like there's anything I can do about it."

"Yes you can. But you won't."

"Someone please explain to me what planet I'm on. It wasn't long ago that everyone was trying to pull us apart, telling me how evil and vile she was. Now I'm the jerk for not going after her?" The Warden said, pointing at his chest with both hands, "What happened to letting go of the rose?"

"Letting go at this point is useless. You and she are so intertwined that separating you will cause you both to wither and die."

"Spoken with the true flair of a bard." he noted, "So what you're telling me is that I should just ignore her death threat and go after her anyway, even though that's clearly not what she wants. Does that sound about right?"

"Yes. I can't see where she would honestly turn you away, much less attack you."

"I can't keep doing this with her. How many times am I supposed to chase her across Ferelden because she wants to play games?" The Warden asked, frustrated he was failing to convince the bard.

"As many as it takes." Leliana replied.

The bard's words struck deep with The Warden. He pondered them for many hours while he took a long stroll around the castle grounds, walking circles around the main building. The sky was starry and clear and the night air was cool and crisp. Occasionally he would stop and gaze that the stars as they twinkled in the heavens. He would catch himself wondering about her; where she was and what she might be doing at that moment. Did she see the same stars he did? Could she even see the stars where she was at? Was she pointing them out by name to their son? The Warden pictured his son, his large golden eyes transfixed on the stars, gazing in wonder at the bright objects overhead.

That's when he felt it. Like a faint tickle against his chest. Steadily it grew stronger. The Warden could feel something pulling at him. A pulse of energy radiated through him, like a beacon calling to him, urging him to the west. His internal compass connecting him with the witch had returned!

There was something different about it this time, however. It was if he could also feel Morrigan. She was alone. Trapped and scared. These were sensations he only used to receive from the ring she had given him by the campfire so long ago. The ring he used to activate the map that Alistair found, giving him his compass in the first place, it being destroyed in the process.

His first instinct was to run to his quarters, gather his things, and rush to her aid as quickly as he could. But as he turned to run up the stairs to the main door, he stopped in his tracks, a thought popping in his head. "What if it's not real?" What if he missed the witch so much that his mind was starting to play tricks on him to give him an excuse to race off after her. Why else would he be able to feel both the compass and the effects of the ring? He had to be losing it, there was no other answer. So instead of heading off to rescue the witch, The Warden instead sought out Wynne.

He found the enchanter sitting in the study, quietly reading a book while enjoying a glass of one of the castle's fine wines. Her eyes rose to meet his as he entered. The old mage was no fool and quickly guessed that something was troubling The Warden. She closed her book and set it on the table small table beside her in order to give him her complete focus.

"You look like someone who's deeply worried." She said to him as she patted the cushion on the chair next to hers, "Sit down and let's talk about it."

As he took the chair, sitting only on the edge, he explained to Wynne that he thought he could feel the beacon again and that he might be going insane. The compass had stopped working almost two months ago. He hadn't been able to feel it since he was last at Circle Tower. Now it had returned, along with new ability to sense the witch's emotions.

"That is curious." Wynee admitted, "But I don't think you're losing your mind."

"And what makes you say that?" The Warden questioned as he fidgeted in his chair, the beacon's pull and the feeling's accompanying it having an obvious affect on him.

"The map and the ring were similar items, after all." Wynne noted, "It wouldn't be impossible to assume that their magic had somehow combined."

"But why now? Why did it vanish in the first place?"

"I can't tell you that. But for whatever reason it has returned. The question is, will you listen to its call?"

"Thanks, Wynne." he said as he got up out of his chair and exited the study, leaving the elder mage to her reading.

In his chambers, The Warden peered out the wide open window overlooking the courtyard. He didn't even make an attempt at sleep, the beacon now like a loud horn ringing in his head. Instead he looked out the window towards the west, laying his hands against the stone windowsill and resting his weight on them. After much internal debate with himself, The Warden turned from the window and began to roam about the room gathering his things. If something bad happened to Morrigan and Seth he would never forgive himself, especially if he had the chance to prevent it. If it turned out that his mind was playing tricks on him after all, then he decided he would leave her be and keep his distance. But he just had to know for sure that both the witch and child were safe. The possibility that Flemeth could somehow have found her was all it took for him to make up his mind. He was going to go after her.

* * *

Alistair was checking to make sure the saddle on his horse had been properly secured before he mounted his steed. The Sun was just starting to rise in the east. The king could see a storm looming on the horizon to the west, a line of dark clouds that boiled ominously against the still dark western sky. The thunder was already reaching the castle and he knew it wouldn't be long before the storm was upon them.

"We'd better leave before that storm moves in." Leliana said, echoing the king's thoughts.

"We'll have to ride fast to stay ahead of it." Alistair replied while he climbed atop his horse with a grunt. He turned to notice The Warden walking down the path to the main gate, a large knapsack flung over his shoulder. "It looks like we're not the only ones leaving." he said to the bard as he gestured towards The Warden.

"And where are you off to?" Leliana asked The Warden.

"I'm going after Morrigan." he answered.

"It's about damned time." Alistair said, "I was actually starting to miss her charming demeanor."

"I have to find her. She and Seth are in trouble. I'm sure of it." The Warden explained.

"So where are we off to, then?" Leliana inquired, mounting her steed.

"You guys don't have to do this. I think Flemeth might be behind it so it's not going to be very safe."

"And since when is anything you do 'safe'?" the king returned with a sly grin. "If it is Flemeth, you'll need all the help you can get."

"It's best if I go alone. I don't want you two getting hurt." The Warden said.

"We're coming with you, Dwemer. That's not a request." Alistair replied with authority.

"Oh, so _now_ you're a king."

"It does come in handy sometimes." the king admitted.

"Yes, Your Majesty." The Warden said with a smile, causing Alistair to groan loudly. "Where's Wynne and Zakary?" The Warden asked, having just noticed the elder mage and apprentice's absence.

"They already left. Something about a private matter that needed looking into." Alistair informed. "I sent two of my men with them as escorts, just to be safe."

"You know we'll be going west, right?" The Warden asked Leliana and Alistair as they all looked at the storm on the horizon.

"Of course we are. Why else would that lovely little tempest be there?" the king responded with a facetious tone.

"I'm sure it's not as bad as it looks." the bard said, trying to sound hopeful.

"You're right." Alistair agreed. "It's probably worse."

And sure enough, not long after The Warden, Leliana, Alistair, and nine of his knights, all left Castle Cousland, they ran into the fierce storm. Thunder clapped loudly and the bright flashes of lightning would spook the horses as they trudged through the driving downpour. The howling winds drowned out all voices, no matter how loudly they yelled. Such storms were incredibly rare in that part of Ferelden, leading all the members of the party to agree that it's appearance was not natural. Still, they pressed onward, guided by The Warden's internal compass which constantly pulled him to the west and closer to the northern coast.

Whatever magic there was behind the storm, The Warden refused to let it stop him. More than ever he was convinced that something horrible had happened and that the old hag was close to claiming her prize. If that was the case, then all of Ferelden could be at risk. The thought of the kind of destruction Flemeth would release with the power of a god at her command sent a shiver down his spine. He swore he would find Flemeth and he would kill her...permanently this time.

Two long, wet, dreary days they marched westward. The storm never ceased to rage and all members of the group were soaked and chilled to the bone. But they continued on, as the freezing rain fell and the cold winds constantly blew, until at last they reached the northern coast of Ferelden. The Warden was being drawn to an old Orlisian keep that was built high upon the rocky cliffs over a century ago, during the occupation. It had laid dormant since the Orlisian forces were repelled and the keep was abandoned. Decades of neglect were clearly visible as the party entered through the main gate. The portcullis was rusted and wedged in place, hanging almost halfway down from the overhead arch. Each rider had barely enough room to squeeze under the still- sharp barbs and into the courtyard.

The Warden looked up at the stone tower, flashes of lightning exposing the outline against the dark sky above. Everything was dark inside the keep. None of the windows were lit and there were no signs of any type of activity within the thick walls. But yet he knew, he was absolutely certain that Morrigan was inside and that she needed him desperately. He dismounted his horse, the others following in kind, and they all walked up the short flight of stairs before the large wooden entrance to the tower. The Warden reached out and grabbed the large rusted ring on the door and gave a hefty tug, causing the hinges to creak loudly as the old door slowly opened and The Warden and his companions ventured inside.


	24. Chapter 24

**Part XXIV**

Water steadily dripped from the window's ledge and cold spray would constantly pelt the witch while the violent storm raged outside, as it had been for nearly two days. Morrigan knew this was no normal storm. Without a doubt there was some dark power behind it. She didn't know whether or not her mother was directly responsible for the storm, but at the very least it was likely that Flemeth had a hand in it.

Morrigan huddled in the only dry corner left in her tiny cell, any hope of rescue she had long since evaporated. She just crouched in the corner, staring out the window at the ferocious storm. Four days she had been trapped in this prison. The witch greatly wished that her mother would hurry up with whatever it was she had planned and just get it over with. "I trust the storm hasn't caused you too much discomfort." A voice said from outside the cage.

"Not at all. I am quite fine." Morrigan returned with a scowl.

"'Tis good to hear." Flemeth said as she stepped closer to the bars and out of the shadows. "I would hate to know that your accommodations are lacking."

"Why have you come to torment me?" the witch asked with a hiss.

"Can a mother not look in on her daughter? I was merely concerned with your welfare."

"My _welfare_ is no longer your concern."

"I disagree. You've been troubled since you arrived."

"And what would you know of my troubles?"

"I know a great deal more than you realize. I know that your sweet prayer, moving though it was, fell on deaf ears."

"You've been spying on me!" Morrigan exclaimed in shock and anger.

"Spying, observing...call it whatever you wish." the hag replied with indifference. "Either way it has been most enlightening."

"I am pleased I could entertain you." the witch shot back with a sarcastic sneer.

"Entertain? No no no. The entertainment doesn't begin until your beloved warden arrives."

"I'm afraid you will be disappointed, then. He is not coming."

"Not coming?" The old hag said as she burst into a fit of laughter, "Of course he's coming, foolish girl."

"I made quite sure he would not follow."

"Did you, now? I find that highly unlikely. More likely the oaf will come searching for you and stop at nothing until he finds you. Love clouding his better judgment, making him weak and predictable."

"Love is _not_ a weakness." Morrigan said with conviction, surprising even herself.

The old hag stood there stunned by her daughter's words, a smile slowly starting to form across her aged face. "Oh, my daughter, you think you know about love, but you know nothing. I have taught you the ways and the evils of such things, but it seems those lessons have been forgotten. Soon, however, you shall see, beyond doubt, love's foolishness."

"What are you saying?" the witch questioned.

"Only that I've one final lesson to teach you."

"I tire of your games. You will tell me your intentions." Morrigan demanded.

"Patience, my daughter. All will be revealed in time."

* * *

Soaking wet from head to toe, The Warden and his party looked around the room as they closed the door, shutting out the storm that raged outside. The foyer to the keep was a large, open room with a high ceiling and wooden doors at either end. The furniture in the room was unable to escape the effects of years of abandon, dust and cobwebs having covered everything in several thick layers. The Warden stood there for a moment, looking first at one door, then the other, unable to choose between them.

"Something wrong?" Alistair asked.

"We're getting very close, but I can't tell which way to go." The Warden answered as he pondered.

"How do you mean?"

"It's like she's below us a bit, over there somewhere." The Warden said as he gestured to a spot near the floor on the far wall, halfway between both doors.

"You have to pick one." Leliana said while still trying to ring the water from her clothers.

"The left one." The Warden chose as he pointed to the appropriate door.

"You sure?" Alistair questioned.

"No." The Warden said as he started towards the left door. "Eyes sharp, weapons ready." Pulling a single blade, he grabbed the handle on the door and swung it wide open, revealing the room beyond.

The room was dark, save for the frequent lightning flashes the lit the room clearly, an instant at a time. The remains of several knights, Orlisians who died during the fight for Ferelden's freedom, lay about the room, nothing more than skeletal remains in hollow metal shells.

"Does anyone else find this creepy?" Alistair inquired with a nervous voice.

"Leliana, Derik, you're with me. The rest you of you wait out here while we check it out." The Warden ordered, gesturing to the captain and the bard.

"I don't like this at all." the king said nervously.

"Stop worrying. We'll be fine." The Warden assured as he, the bard, and the captain all walked through the doorway and into the room beyond.

All three searched the room quickly, making the most of each bright flash of lightning as they scanned each wall, examined all the tables, and searched the desk. It soon became apparent that there were no other exits in this room and other than the remains of the knights, contained nothing of interest.

"Let's check the other door." The Warden said to the other two as they all made for the exit.

Just as the trio were about the leave the room, the wooden door slammed shut in front of them. Try as they might, the door would not budge. Cries and shouts could be heard coming through from the other side as Alistair and the others banged and pounded on the door, seeking to gain entrance and failing.

"This is very bad." Leliana said as she turned around, the sound of clicking metal catching her ear. "Dwemer!" she called out.

The Warden spun around to see the long dead knights slowly rising from their places on the stone floor. The rusted metal creaking and clanging as they shambled, a blood red glow emanating from deep withing their hollow eye sockets. Slowly each forgotten soldier climbed to its feet, shaking off the dust of decades past. In a matter of seconds, the creatures' gaze found the three humans trying desperately to get the door open.

The forgotten soldiers moved well, despite their haggard appearances. They quickly and nimbly assumed positions around The Warden and his comrades. All the while Alistair banged on the door and his shouts from the opposite side could be heard. The trio drew their blades and readied themselves for combat, standing shoulder-to-shoulder in a semi-circle, The Warden in the center between the bard and the captain, their backs facing the door.

The long-dead knights wielded their weapons and shields deftly, as if the demonic beasts had retained their mortal abilities. Unlike most other undead creatures The Warden had faced, which often moved in a stiff, shambling manner, these knights moved as quickly and quietly as any cat. The only sounds they made as the gathered themselves into position was the occasional creaking and clanking of their armor. There were ten of them altogether. They formed a line around the trio's small semi-circle and stood silently with weapons at the ready, as if waiting for some command to attack.

"Leliana, take the three on the left. Derik take the three on the right." The Warden commanded.

"That leaves you with four. Can you handle that many?" the bard asked.

"We'll find out." The Warden answered as he tightly gripped his blades and sprang towards the four undead knights in front of him, attacking like a rabid dog.

"Dwemer!" the bard shouted out, to no avail. With a quick glance at the captain and a nod, she lunged at the three undead before her. She swung her blade down, attempting to cut the middle knight in half, only to have her blade blocked by the second knight. The third thrust his blade, aiming for the bard's guts, an awkward twisting move being the only thing that saved her. She used her momentum to roll around behind the middle knight and sweep her sword across the back of his legs, slicing them apart at the knee. The knight toppled over to the floor, and with the butt of her blade, Leliana smashed the demon's skull to bits.

Leliana had only a brief second to glimpse at how The Warden and the captain fared. Derik had taken out one of the three he faced, and The Warden had downed two, leaving all of them against two undead knights apiece. She whirled around to engage her two remaining undead foes. With silent screams they attacked her, raising their wicked blades as they rushed her. At the very last second, Leliana dropped down, below the swipe of their blades, and thrust her sword quickly upwards once, and then again in the span of an instant.

The two knights fell apart at the waist, the bard having severed their spines. The creatures fumed quietly as the clamored about the stone floor, trying to turn themselves in an effort to attack the bard again. Leliana leaped over and smashed each of their skulls underneath the leather sole of her boot, taking time to grind the bits into the floor. "I got mine." she announced to the others who were still otherwise engaged.

Captain Derik finished off the one knight left that he faced with a quick spin around it, grabbing the creature's head and slamming it against the wall, smashing its skull into a fine powder. The Warden was likewise finishing off the last of his opponents by smashing its skull against the stone floor, causing the knight to plop lifelessly onto the floor. There was a loud "_Smash!_"as Alistair and the rest of his men were finally able to break through the wooden door. "Everyone alright?" the king asked as he and the men raced into the room, having heard the distinctive clanging of sword play from the other side of the door.

"We're alright." The Warden informed.

"What happened?"

"We ran into Flemeth's welcome party."

"That must have been some welcome." Alistair noted as he stared around the floor at the mess.

The group proceeded out of the small room and back across the main foyer to the door on the other side. Again, The Warden directed the men to stay sharp and be ready for anything as he grabbed the metal ring on the door and began to swing it open. Suddenly a voice echoed from behind them, "Greetings, Warden. So nice of you to join us."

The party turned to see the glint of steel sailing through the air, heading right toward Alistair. The king froze in place as the sword zipped at him. The captain, seeing his king in danger, jumped to position himself between the king and the ghostly blade. His eyes stared directly into Alistair's as the sword struck home in Derik's back, nearly burying itself to the hilt.

Panic and horror filled the king as he saw the expression on Derik's face. It was the expression of a man who knew he had just been killed. "Derik!" Alistair shouted as he grabbed the captain to give support, the poor man rapidly becoming weaker from his injury.

"My...my king." Derik muttered as he slowly fell to his knees, his arms still trying to cling to Alistair.

"I'm so sorry, old friend." was the last thing the king was able to say, the captain's life completely leaving his body as he slumped to the floor.

"Flemeth! You monster!" The Warden shouted as he turn to rush the hag. "What have you done with Morrigan and Seth?" he demanded.

"Your fair witch and her whelp are safe..." the hag said ominously, "but for how long only you can decide."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Simple. All the players are finally here. The only thing left is for the music to be played and the dance can at long last begin in earnest."

"I almost forgot how much I hate talking to you. Can't you just give me a straight answer for once?" The Warden fumed, getting very impatient with the hag.

"Meet me at the top, Warden. That is where all your answers lie...if you are able make it that far." Flemeth said, those being her final words as she disappeared in a flash of flame and smoke.

"We have to kill her, Dwemer." Alistair said while he crouched down beside the captain's lifeless body, "Derik deserved better."

"I promise, Alistair. Tonight it ends."

The Warden jerked open the wooden door, opening the way to another room. Upon entering the room, it was clear this room was not like the first room they inspected at all. The room was rather large, with the far wall being curved, indicating the edge of the keep tower. A line of stairs ran up against the far wall, following the curve and ending in a door at the top, obviously leading to the next floor. Beneath the stairs lay another door, its destination not being as apparent as the first.

"Two doors again. Which one this time?" the bard inquired as she eyed the two choices.

"The bottom one." The Warden said as he pointed to it.

"I hope you're more sure about this one then you were the last one." Leliana replied as they all approached the lower door.

The Warden tugged open the door to reveal more stairs that lead downward, curving just as the ones above. "I guess we go down." he noted as he drew his blade as slowly began to descend down the stairs and into the dark depths below.

The group found a large chamber at the bottom of the stairs with several small cells lining the side walls, all of which were empty, and another door located on the far end of the room. The skeletal remains of many hapless victims were strewn about the floor, drawing a watchful eye from The Warden and the bard.

"Don't worry, Leliana." he said to her. "Flemeth won't use the same trick twice."

"I hope you're right." she responded, her eyes steadily fixed on the many piles of bones.

And true enough, the bones never moved from their spot on the cold floor. Instead, there was a flash of dark smoke and mist, two dark figures appeared. Each massive, well armored, and carrying the most wicked of blades.

"Revenants!" The Warden yelled.

It was already too late for one unfortunate man, as his back was to the demon when it appeared and he was quickly struck down, the revenant's blade slicing the man in two. The party split off into two groups. The Warden, Leliana, and Alistair in one, and the remaining seven knights in another, each engaging a separate revenant.

"I really hate these things." Alistair said as he ducked underneath the demon's swipe.

It was all the three could do to keep the revenant at bay. These were among the most powerful creatures in all Ferelden and were always a tough test in combat. Even with his prowess with his swords, The Warden managed to only land a few meaningful blows. Revenants had a large arsenal of attacks, not the least of which was being extremely skilled with a blade. They also possessed a vast array of other talents that only served to make them even more formidable. Perhaps most annoyingly, the demons were able to send out a telekinetic wave that disrupted their opponents and made them stumble. The Warden particularly hated that power.

It was clear the knights were having even greater difficulty in dealing with their revenant. The screams of several men could be heard as the demon snuffed out their lives with a slash of its massive sword. Only four men were left to battle the creature. Soon, however, the constant attacks on the outnumbered demon began to take their toll, as eventually the beast slowed and weakened, allowing one of the men to deliver the final blow, stabbing his sword into the revenant's face, the tip sticking out of the back of the demon's head.

The Warden raised his blades to extinguish the life from the revenant before him. With a mighty swing, he brought them down as hard as he could. Curiously, though, his swords never found their target, it having been knocked out of the way by the king's shield smash. Instead his blades harmlessly swished through the air.

"Alistair!" he shouted at the king. "I hate it when you do that."

"Sorry." Alistair said as he continued to pound the revenant with his shield, knocking it backwards.

As the creature fell back, Leleiana twirled about, bringing her sharp blade against the beast's neck, lopping off it's head in one quick motion, the helmet clanging as it bounced across the floor. "That takes care of that." she said, sheathing her weapon.

The door at the far end of the room was flung wide and The Warden raced through, knowing the witch was near. The room beyond the door was a near mirror of the one he just left. Small cells again lined each side. The difference being the sound of a woman weeping coming from one of the cells. The Warden ran to find the source of the sound. And in the middle cell, along the far wall, he found her.

"Morrigan!" he yelled to the witch as he ran to the small cage.

The witch, who was sitting on the side of the small bed slowly looked up, almost in disbelief of what her ears heard. She looked over and spotted The Warden as he rushed up to the outside of her cell.

"Can this truly be?" the witch asked, stunned. "You came for me?"

"I had to." he said, his hand reaching through the bars to her.

Morrigan stood from her spot on the bed, walked over and took his outstretched hand in hers, as if to feel if it was actually real or not. "You came for me." she repeated softly.

"Hold on, Leliana will have you out in a minute." he said while he squeezed her soft hand in his.

With the skill of a practiced surgeon, Leliana set about picking the lock on the cell door. It was old and rusted, but still the bard was able to convince it to disengage with a loud "click". The Warden pulled the prison door open with a loud creak, setting the witch free.

Morrigan stood there a moment, blankly looking at The Warden. "Morrigan?" he said, trying to break the witch from her trance.

"'Tis really _you_." she said. "You are not some apparition conjured by my mind to torment me."

"It's me, Morrigan." he said, holding out his arms, beckoning her.

"Dwemer!" exclaimed the witch as she ran out of the cell and into The Warden's arms, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing as tight as she could. "How was it that you were able to find me?" she asked still very shocked to see him.

"My link with you returned. Except this time it's different. It's like I can sense your emotions now."

"I was stupid foolish girl. Twas wrong of me to leave as I did..."

"It's alright. None of that matters right now."

"No. You must hear this. I may not again have the opportunity to tell you. For whatever reason, I've been given another chance and I'll not squander it." Morrigan said, her golden eyes gazing into his. "Twas Flemeth who tricked me into leaving. She had me believe our joining took place purely by her doing. I thought my feelings for you were not real, having been generated by her magic."

"That explains a lot." The Warden said, nodding.

"You do know me well." Morrigan said meekly, her gaze dropping to the floor. "I shall do whatever is required to earn your forgiveness."

"We can about it talk later, when we're alone."

"I care not if I must beg you in front of everyone here. I must know. Please tell me that I've not ruined things beyond repair, that there is hope of reconciliation." the witch pleaded, her voice urgent and cracking.

"Of course there's hope, you silly witch. I love you."

With The Warden's statement, Morrigan pressed her head against his chest and held onto him as tightly as she could. He held her close as all those gathered silently and patiently watched and waited. After several long minutes of silence, the witch finally lifted her head and said to him in a calm voice, "Come, my love. Let us fetch our son."

And with Morrigan now in their company, the remaining members of the group withdrew from the dank dungeon and back up the stairs, finding their way to the second floor. The progression towards the top of the keep was unhindered. And after finding and climbing several more flights of stairs, the party at last threw open the final hatch to the roof of the tower and climbed through it.

Violent winds swirled around the rooftop, seeming to come from all directions simultaneously. Strangely, however, the air was dry. Not a single drop from the monstrous tempest that raged fell on them. Near the ledge rested an altar made of the blackest marble. On top, nestled in three cradles laid the Orbs of Arastani, their blood red hue made even more ominous by the flashing lightning. Standing next to the altar was Flemeth with Seth in her arms.

"And so you've made it." the hag said, a small measure of delight in her tone.

"Give me my son, you bitch!" The Warden shouted at the hag, drawing both of his blades for emphasis.

"Why, Warden, what could have you in such a foul mood? After all, this is a glorious occasion; one we should be celebrating. 'Tis not often one is fortunate enough to witnesses the birth of a god."

"What are you talking about?"

"'Tis the _true_ tale of Flemeth. A tale that has been five hundred years in the making." Flemeth began to explain as she looked down at the child in her arms. "How, so long ago, a fair young maiden was betrayed by love, and how your ancestor, Sarim Cousland, took what was rightfully mine and left me to the wilds."

"Out with it old woman! Enough riddles!" The Warden demanded.

"As you insist." Flemeth said, softly bowing her head in acknowledgment. "Conobar Elstan was a fool, but not nearly so big a fool as I mistook him. My marriage to the bann being one merely of convenience for myself and Osen, twas our plan to take only what we could use, the life of a bard's wife being a meager one. But the buffoon found us out and had Osen killed. In my despair I cried out to the heavens for vengeance. A voice answered, but twas not the demon many suspect. In truth it was Urthemiel, of the old gods. With him I made a pact, he would grant my bloodlust and I, in return, would free him from his imprisonment."

The old hag stopped briefly as she gazed off into the storm around them, her mind drifting off elsewhere, to another time and place. "For five hundred years I have been awaiting this night. For it was then that the plan was first conceived. Once I had located where My Lord was held captive, twas simple enough to alert the darkspawn to his location."

"Are you saying that you caused the last blight?" The Warden asked.

"'Tis not at all what I said. You are not listening. The darkspawn created the archdemon, and thus set the blight loose on Ferelden. I merely facilitated the meeting." Flemeth corrected, turning her eyes squarely on her daughter, "And you, who thought she was so clever. Did you honestly think I did not know your little game? Having at last found Urthemiel, I no longer had any need of 'daughters'. Your purpose has always been to bare the child."

Morrigan's face turned white from shock, and then red filled the witch's cheeks as rage set in. "Do not look so surprised, my daughter." Flemeth said, shrugging off Morrigan's anger. "Twas I who created the circumstances that brought you and your beloved warden together. Twas I who kept you together. Who do you think gave that fool Avex the map?" the hag chuckled as she spoke.

"You never wanted Morrigan to leave after the ritual." The Warden said in revelation.

"Quite correct. The girl nearly ruined everything. But with effort, I was able to salvage the situation."

"Why is it so important that Morrigan and I are together? What purpose could that possibly serve your twisted plan?" The Warden inquired, his impatience with the hag starting to get the better of him.

"Because, dear boy, were you not in love, you would not willingly give yourself to the orbs." Flemeth informed, casually.

"Give myself to the orbs? You're insane. You know that, right?" The Warden said as he gripped the handles of his blades ever tighter, itching to sink their razor edges in the hag.

Morrigan understood her mother's meaning all to well. "_You're_ the sacrifice! She means to use you to cleanse the orbs!" she exclaimed.

A sudden gust of wind burst and caught the witch in its grasp, raising her up in the air and over the side of the roof, nothing beneath her but sharp, jagged rocks and fuming surf over a hundred feet below. Morrigan hung there, trapped within the winds. Her cries and pleas were drowned out by the roar of the gale, but The Warden was still able to read the witch's lips as she screamed "Do not do it! Do not dare!"

"'Tis your choice, Warden. Slay me and your fair Morrigan dies. Give yourself to the orbs and she lives."

Alistair and Leliana could offer no help as The Warden stared at them each in turn. Their eyes showing him that the situation was, in fact, as bad as it looked. There was no choice to be made, really, The Warden thought to himself. There was only something that needed to be done. He looked up at his witch and mouthed the words "I love you, always."

"No!" Morrigan screamed as loudly as she could, but it was no use. He couldn't hear her and even if he could he wouldn't stop.

"I await your decision, Warden. What will it be?" the hag asked with an evil grin, already knowing the answer.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked her as he approached the altar and stood before it.

"Place your hand on the smallest orb. Nothing more." Flemeth instructed.

The Warden reached out with his left arm and rested his hand on the blood-red sphere in front of him. Flemeth closed her eyes and began uttering an incantation, causing the orb to spring into life, a deep glow forming within. There was a bright flash of light, and Dwemer, the Grey Warden, fell to the ground, dead.


	25. Chapter 25

**Part XXV**

The deep red hue of the orbs faded and each became completely clear. The light emitted by the smallest orbs shifted from red to a bright gold. The hag chuckled gleefully at her accomplishment while Leliana, Alistair, and his men stood stunned, almost unable to comprehend what they had just seen.

The violent winds that held the witch aloft began to gently lower her back in place on top of the keep's tower. As soon as Morrigan's feet came in touch with the stone roof, she bolted to The Warden's side as he lay lifeless in front of the black stone altar. She bent down and grabbed him, rolling him over on his back, his eyes wide open, fixed and staring at nothing.

"_No_!" The witch cried out, throwing her arms around him and trying to pull him up to her, his much heavier frame giving her difficulty. "No!" she repeated in desperation.

"You will not do this to me! Do you hear?" she whispered into his ear as she cradled his body in her arms. "I shall not allow you to die on me...on us..."

The Warden remained still and unmoving in Morrigan's arms, showing no signs of response to the witch's pleas. She bowed her head and rested it against his, "No...please no..." she whimpered quietly.

"He's gone, Morrigan." Alistair said from behind her. "There's nothing you can do." The king placed his hand on the witch's shoulder. She looked up to see both he and the bard staring down at her, with him teary eyed, and Leliana weeping heavily.

"He...he did this for me..." Morrigan muttered weakly to the king.

"Yes he did." Flemeth agreed. "And now at last do you see the weakness of love. Before you lies the most powerful man to walk the face of Ferelden in centuries, and you helped me destroy him without ever having to lift a finger. All for love."

With a fierce yell, Morrigan rose to her feet, channeled all of her rage and hate into her spell and flung it forth at her mother with everything she had within her. "Die!" she cried as the intense bolt of energy flew forth from her fingertips, crackling and popping through the air as it raced towards the old hag, who, with a simple casual backhand, knocked the blast away and sent it arcing harmlessly off into thin air.

"Do be careful. You wouldn't want anything to happen to the babe, now would you?" Flemeth cackled back at her daughter as if amused by the witch's anger. "We shall complete our business when I am finished here. I am sure your lust for vengeance can stand to wait several minutes."

"I will see you dead!" Morrigan exclaimed as she prepared another spell to attack her mother with.

"I tried to be civil and this is the thanks I get?" Flemeth said as if hurt by the witch's belligerence, "So be it." And with a wave of her hand, Morrigan, Alistair, Leliana, and the knights were each surrounded by a glowing blue sphere. A barrier spell that kept them trapped in place, unable to annoy the hag any further.

"You would unleash a monster and bring destruction on us all!" The witch yelled out.

"A monster? _Ha_! You know nothing." Flemeth explained with her usual flair for the insane, "Lord Urthemiel is a god of beauty. He will restore the old ways and bring order to chaos. He will drive the petulant usurper back into the abyss along with his followers, wiping the slate clean that we may begin anew."

"You are completely mad!" Morrigan yelled back.

"Mad am I? Is it so mad to desire balance? Am I so wrong for wanting to gain back what is rightfully mine?"

"Was Osen so important to you to demand the whole world pay penance in blood?" Morrigan asked.

"Would you have done any less for your warden?" the hag asked in return.

Flemeth's response caught the witch off guard. It was not something Morrigan expected to hear from her mother. Even after all these centuries, Osen's death still stabbed at the old hag as if it were still a fresh wound. The hate within Flemeth had had centuries to fester and boil until it became a creature of its own.

"Just as you held your beloved warden in your arms, so I held Osen. And as he lay dead in my arms I swore that I would avenge him. Although I was gifted in the ways of magic, I stood no chance alone against Conobar's men. Lord Urthemiel heard my cries and gave me the means to carry out my revenge."

"But Elstan's death wasn't enough? Your revenge required more blood to be satiated?"

"Not so. Having slain the bann, I thought my work finished." the hag continued to explain, "But the bann's Captain of the Guard, Sarim Cousland, had seen what I had done. My deeds having tired me greatly, the fool captain was able to drive me from the castle. He immediately proclaimed himself the new bann of Highever and took from me what was rightfully mine as Conobar's wife. Worse still, the Aramithine honored the upstart's claim. Twas obvious it suited them better to have a man rather than a woman overseeing the bannorn."

"So you ensured the eradication of the Cousland family...except for one small thing, the Cousland line yet remains."

"You refer to Teyrn Fergus Cousland. His destruction will be a simple matter, once My Lord is free from his prison."

Morrigan held her tongue, noting that her mother had missed the obvious and decided not to reveal anything to the hag. There were two other Couslands that Flemeth was apparently unaware of, Seth and the witch herself, who considered herself a Cousland. After all, both The Warden and teyrn had said she was family.

"'Tis now time to summon My Lord so that he may take his place among us." Flemeth said as she stepped toward the altar, cradling the child in her arms. She began muttering ancient spells as she extended her arms, offering Seth to the orbs. The smallest orb began to rise from it's small cradle and hover in mid-air. Soon, the next larger orb began to glow softly. A sound started to fill the air, a sound like a strange and sad song.

"Twill not be long now." Flemeth noted while the song became louder in the ears of all who were gathered. A golden aura surrounded Seth and he floated out of the hag's arms.

"Yes!" the hag cackled with glee as the last, and largest of the orbs stirred to life; a faint glow began to flicker, becoming steadily brighter. In front of the altar, a form was taking shape. The outline of a tall, muscular humanoid was getting ever more clear. "He comes!" Flemeth exclaimed.

* * *

The cobwebs were taking their time in clearing from The Warden's head. He felt as though large bells were being rung inside his skull as it throbbed and ached. His vision was blurred and he was having trouble making out the landscape around him. Everything was a bland gray in color, the air was stale and unmoving, and there were no sounds, all was calm and still.

"It's about time you came around." someone said to him.

Squinting his eyes, The Warden strained to look around him. To his left was the figure of a man. "Who are you?" he asked the blurred form.

"I was once known as Verzanell, High Mage of the Tevinter Imperium and assistant to the Archon himself. I helped to create the orbs. Now? Now I'm just another faceless ghost in the void."

"Verzanell? I know that name." The Warden said, recalling Morrigan's mention of the mage.

"And you are Dwemer, Grey Warden and consort to the swamp witch. She told me all about you, in a manner of speaking." Verzanell replied, "And now that we have the introductions out of the way, we need to get to work. We don't have much time before _he_ arrives."

"He who?" inquired The Warden as a rubbed his eyes, trying to clear his vision. When things finally came into focus, The Warden found himself standing next to a man in an ornate robe, his height and general age being close to The Warden's own.

"The one who's been summoned of course...Urthemiel." the mage stated coolly. "He comes to devour you so that he might again walk among living men."

"I have no intentions of being devoured. He'll find that this meal bites back."

"What good are steel swords against a god? Don't be a fool."

"You have a better idea?" The Warden asked.

"As a matter of fact, I do." Verzanell answered as he cast a look at The Warden, raising an eyebrow, "Within you lies the one thing capable of stopping Urthemiel, the thing that makes you what you are: a Grey Warden."

"The Taint? How can that help?"

"The Taint is more than merely some black ooze. It was the Taint that first corrupted the god and turned him into an archdemon, and only the Taint can destroy him for good."

"I don't understand." The Warden replied, puzzled.

"You will. But we have to hurry, Urthemiel has already been called and will doubtless be here soon."

The mage wasted no time in explaining to The Warden the exact nature of the Taint. It wasn't merely a residual side affect, it was the Taint itself that was the actual curse. And just as the darkspawn had figured out how to use it to create broodmothers, who in turn used the Taint to create more darkspawn, Verzanell showed The Warden how to use the Taint within himself to kill a god.

Verzanell told The Warden to look deep within himself, to find the Taint and listen to the song it sang. The mage told The Warden that if he listened he could hear the Taint speaking to him, and that he could speak back. The Warden calmed himself and turned his focus inward, looking into the deepest corners of his mind. Only by totally clearing his mind would The Warden be able to hear it, Verzanell informed. And when all was still and quiet in The Warden's mind he heard it, like a faint voice calling to him. The more he listened the more he was able to focus on the voice and follow it, making it's song louder to him. Once The Warden learned how to feel the power that flowed through him, he wondered how he had never noticed it before. It seemed so obvious to him now. He could not only feel the Taint as it coursed through him, but he could manipulate it as well, bending it to his will. He was as much a part of it as it was him. It was with him always, even in the Fade he could not escape it.

"Good." Verzanell said as the lesson continued, "Now draw it forth, out of you, and use it."

The Warden focused and hard as he could, forcing the Taint outwards to make itself visible. At first all he felt was a tingle in his left hand, but as he concentrated harder and became more comfortable controlling the dark venom within him, he soon could feel the immense power surging down his entire arm as black flames burst forth from his hand, consuming it.

"Excellent! Now use it." the mage instructed.

Extending his hand, The Warden took aim at one of the many small gray bushes that dotted the ground. With great effort, he was able to project the ebony flames out towards the bush. Only a weak spark at first, but quickly he was able to completely douse the shrub with his power, obliterating it.

The ground started trembling beneath their feet and a low rumble filled the air. "Our time is up. He's here." the mage said as he turned to look off into the distance, towards the source of the disturbance. "You have only one shot. Don't waste it or your dead and everything you've done will be for nothing."

"I won't waste it." The Warden said as he reached over his shoulders and pulled his blades from their sheaths.

A swirling cloud of dust came upon them, the powerful winds it created forcing both The Warden and the mage to lean forward into the gale to avoid being blown backwards. The winds died and the dust cleared revealing a large man. He was very tall, at least nine feet or so The Warden reckoned. His skin was a pale green, his eyes were golden and dragon-like. His long pointed ears stuck out of his jet-black hair that hung down over his muscled chest. Large white horns protruded from either side of the beings' skull, their sharp and deadly points sending a shiver through The Warden. He was the most imposing and formidable looking creature The Warden had ever seen.

Without saying a word, the creature stuck its hand out directly over The Warden's head. There was a strange sensation that covered him and he began to feel weaker, falling to his knees and having to hold himself up with his blade.

"Fight it!" Verzanell yelled. "You've got to resist and fight back!"

Gripping his blades tightly and drawing on all his remaining strength, The Warden lunged at the god, bringing his swords down in a vicious arc. Urthemiel held out his other hand and caught both blades harmlessly in his grasp. The god's other hand quickly came across, striking The Warden and sending him sailing through the air, landing on the ground with a hard "thump!". The Warden had to quickly roll from side to side to avoid his own blades as the god threw them back with deadly accuracy, their points burying deep in the ground as they narrowly missed their target.

The Warden reached to pull his blades from the ground, but before he had the chance the god was upon him, knocking The Warden on his back. A large foot came down in the middle of The Warden's chest, pinning him down. Again Urthemiel reached out his hand and held it above The Warden and again The Warden felt himself being drained.

Try as he might, The Warden as unable to budge the god's foot as it pressed into his chest, crushing him. His strength was quickly leaving him and the world around was beginning to fade and become dark. There was nothing he could do. He was trapped. The Warden considered just giving in and letting the god have him.

"No! You've got to fight!" the mage yelled, "If you don't stop him, he'll kill her! He'll kill them both!"

As everything started to go black, The Warden saw the face of his witch in his mind. He failed her and because of his failure she and their son would die. There was nothing he could do. He had not been strong enough, after all. And just as the darkness was about to claim him, when all hope was lost, he heard it. A soft voice that called to him, beckoning him to come to it. He followed the voice, listening to it as it got stronger in his head, soon becoming a shout, then a loud roar that echoed through him and gave him strength.

He opened his eyes to see the god smiling wickedly down upon him. The Warden focused himself, concentrating on harnessing the power within him. With a loud yell, black flames burst forth from his body in a dark explosion that blasted Urthemiel backwards sending the god flying through the air and crashing into the ground.

Standing up, The Warden pulled his blades from the dirt, swinging them about. He channeled his inner fire out through both his hands and his blades erupted with ebony flames. The dark fire danced along the glistening steel while the enraged god stood, growling and preparing to crush the insolent mortal who would dare strike a god.

"Fuck you, too." The Warden said with a sneer. "Let's do this."

A loud roar erupted from Urthemiel as the god charged The Warden. With a quick spin, The Warden slashed the god, striking home with both blades as the unholy fire tore into Urthemiel's side. Dark blood began to pour from the gaping wounds.

"So, you do bleed." The Warden noted, "And if you bleed, I can kill you."

The god screamed in rage at The Warden and brought down his massive fist. The Warden was barely able to avoid the blow and jump clear, rolling with the momentum and slashing again at god. This time his target was the ankles, which he caught cleanly with his swords. Blood once again gushed forth from the god as he fell backwards to the ground, his achilles tendons severed.

"I don't care if I have to whittle you down bit by bit." The Warden said as he readied his swords for another assault, "I _am_ going to kill you."

The god swung his massive head around to face The Warden, opening his mouth wide. A stream of flame spew forth from Urthemiel very similar to dragon's breath. The Warden was barely able to cross his blades in front of him and use his own black flame as shield against the oncoming inferno. The Warden watched in amazement as the god raised himself off the ground and floated in place.

Swinging his blades back, readying to strike, The Warden charged the god with a yell. But Urthemiel was prepared and casually glided to the side allowing The Warden to race by. The god reached out and grabbed The Warden as he passed, spinning him and flinging him to the ground, his blades torn from his hands in the process and landing far behind the god.

With a deep breath, Urthemiel blast forth another wave of flame at The Warden, scorching the ground as he dodged hastily to the side. "I don't need swords to beat you." he said as he once again channeled the Taint within him, his entire body bursting forth into black flames.

The god inhaled mightily and shot out another stream of fire. The Warden strengthened the wall of fire about him and absorbed the energy of the god's attack. "You don't get it do you?" The Warden asked as he concentrated the power in his hands, "You're already dead. You just don't know it yet."

And with a shout, The Warden released his pent up energy at the god. A wall of black flame consumed Urthemiel, igniting and burning him. The god screamed in rage and agony while The Warden continued his onslaught, torching Urthemiel with tainted flames. The god's cries becoming almost deafening as he was slowly turned into charred ash. Until, at last, all that remained of the once-mighty god, Urthemiel was a pile of ashes.

The Warden collapsed to his knees, completely spent. "You did it!" he heard Verzanell shout as the mage rushed to his side.

"Morrigan and Seth are safe now." The Warden said as he gasped and puffed, trying to catch his breath, "That's all that matters."

"You've done more than that." the mage corrected, "So much more than that." a soft glow began to surround Verzanell and he was becoming harder to make out against the gray background. It almost seemed as if the mage was vanishing before The Warden's eyes. "Don't you see? By destroying Urthemiel you've broken the curse and freed all the trapped souls contained in the orbs."

"What about me? Am I doomed to wander here alone for eternity?" The Warden asked, almost afraid to find out.

"Of course not. The Taint gives you power over the orbs. You can leave whenever you like, provided you still have a body to return to."

"You could have mentioned that sooner."

"I'm sure you can see why I didn't. You have my eternal gratitude. What you have done here today will not be forgotten." the mage said as he faded from The Warden's view, having been freed from the orbs' clutches at long last.

It would have been nice if Verzanell had mentioned how he might use the Taint to escape the orbs before he left, The Warden thought. He closed his eyes and concentrated on trying to leave the Fade. He tried listening to the song of the Taint to see if maybe that would provide some clue. And as he listened, the song again became louder in him. He felt as though he was being pulled down a long tunnel, when suddenly there was a bright flash of light.

* * *

"Something is not right." Flemeth noticed as the form in front of the altar began to wither and fade from view. "No! This can't be!"

There was a loud scream that filled the air as the ghostly figure slowly disappeared. "No!" the hag exclaimed again. "All those centuries...wasted!"

The smallest orb twinkled briefly, and once again there was breath in the lungs of The Warden. He sat up and looked around, seeing the witch and the others held in Flemeth's spell. "You!" the hag barked upon seeing The Warden, "You did this! You've ruined everything!"

"I don't believe it." Alistair said, dumbfounded.

Morrigan's gaze quickly found her warden, "He lives!" she shouted, overjoyed.

"Not for much longer." Flemeth replied as she raised her hand to strike. There was an odd cracking sound and the hag's wrist popped, having become stiff and rigid. "What...what is happening?" she said as her tone quickly turned from rage to terror. She appeared to be drying out right in front of The Warden. Her skin was becoming dry as it flaked and cracked.

"Since I killed your god, there's no one keeping you alive anymore." The Warden reasoned.

The ancient hag was crumbling apart before their eyes, turning to dust. As she faded, the barriers surrounding Morrigan and the others collapsed. The witch raced to her son who had floated back to the ground in front of the altar. Snatching him up in her arms she spun around to see what was left of her mother as Flemeth turned completely to dust, the small pile carried away by the wind.

The witch turned her eyes next to The Warden and with child in arm she ran over to him. She was unable to contain herself at his miraculous return from the dead, tears streaming down her cheeks. He wrapped his arms around both child and mother, holding them close to him. "How is this possible?" Morrigan asked, her soft golden eyes looking into his.

"Nothing will ever keep me from you." he said softly to her.

"Not even death it would seem." she replied.

He leaned his face closer and pressed his lips to hers, the warmth and passion of the kiss clearly confirming to the witch that her warden was very much alive. They stood there for a time locked in the embrace, him kissing her as if it was the last kiss he would ever give. And as she melted in his arms, Alistair, Leliana, and the other men circled the couple and their child in order to welcome The Warden back to the ranks of the living.

"'Tis really over?" Morrigan asked The Warden, "Are we truly free?"

"It's over. Flemeth can never harm us again." he confirmed while he brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. "However, you and I have some unfinished business, I believe."

"Do we now?" the witch returned, coyly. "And what might that be?"

"Silly, witch." he said as he nuzzled against her, "I love you."

"And I, you."


	26. Chapter 26

**Part XXVI**

The skies began to clear overhead and the sun shown through for the first time in days. Beams of light burst through the clouds creating pockets of white across the landscape. The Warden stopped for a moment to allow himself to be bathed in the light of a sunbeam. He closed his eyes, face skyward, feeling the warmth on his face. He stood there for a while, not moving and not saying anything, just basking in the sun's rays. A soft hand slipped over his shoulder. He turned to see his witch staring back at him with a small grin. Her hand slid from his shoulder, down his arm, to his hand, clasping it, entwining her fingers with his.

"With people looking?" he asked, amazed that she would dare do such a thing in the presence of others.

"Let them look." she returned slyly, giving a backwards glance to the others in their company. "Twill not be the last they see of it." she finished as she leaned nearer to him, her tender lips inviting him closer.

"And you wish to do this in front of an audience?" he asked, coyly, a small grin beginning to creep across his face.

"Silence and kiss me." she replied, moving in.

"Oh, lovely." Alistair moaned, "Here's where they get all kissy-face."

The Warden, Morrigan, Seth, and the rest of their party departed the lonely keep on the northern coast of Ferelden, with the orbs in their possession, and traveled back to Highever. It was a strange journey. For the first time in as long as any of them could remember, there was no threatening danger that overshadowed them. They were merely travelers on their way back home.

Home. That was a funny word, The Warden thought. The grand castle he knew as a boy hadn't really been a home to him for some time, not since the night his parents were murdered by Lord Howe's men. After that fateful night his life had changed forever. It was as if someone had plucked him from his lush existence as the teyrn's son and dropped him into a swirling vortex, inside which he tumbled aimlessly among the blackened void until he found her. Or maybe she found him. It didn't really matter. They had survived everything that heaven and hell could throw at them and were still together. And as they journeyed the dusty roads of Ferelden along their way back to Highever, The Warden would often stare at his witch as they walked.

She was graceful and elegant in her steps, the envy of any Dalesh maiden. Her raven black hair, which was tied up in a bun on the back of her perfectly shaped head as usual, was as soft and smooth as the finest Antivan silks. Her legs seemed to go all the way to her shoulders, on the way passing the most inviting and scrumptious derriere any man had ever seen. The Warden had always considered it a living work of art, so perfect was her...

"Is there some reason your gaze is fixated on my posterior?" Morrigan asked, catching him red-handed.

"Uhm...uh..." he stammered, caught off guard, "Just taking in the beautiful scenery. That's all."

"Aren't we the flatterer." she returned, "I would, however, prefer that you at least feign eye contact when I am trying to speak to you."

"Oh, I'm sorry. What were you saying, again?"

The witch rolled her eyes and groaned. "I suppose I shall have to find a way to talk with my backside. That, at least, you pay attention to."

"And your boobs. Don't forget your boobs."

"Be serious." she said as she slapped his shoulder. "I asked why was Alistair made king if no Grey Warden may hold a title."

"I'd be curious to know that myself." Leliana agreed.

"Special exception." both men answered simultaneously.

"And that being what?" Morrigan asked.

"Because of the need for a king, he was granted a special exception. It's something that's rarely done, but sometimes a Grey Warden's duties involve more than fighting darkspawn. It requires at least two senior wardens. Since Ferelden was without any I served as the first senior Warden while Riordan served as the second, representing Orlais."

"And that's how your lover boy stuck me with being king." Alistair said.

"Is being king so repugnant to you?" Morrigan asked as she turned to at Alistair, "Were I in your position I am sure I could find such power quite useful."

"Thank the Maker you're not." Alistair replied, "The thought of it alone makes me shiver."

"'Tis good to know my friends think so highly of me." the witch quipped back.

"Friends...? You and me? I...uh..." the king stumbled.

"Why, dear Alistair, whatever is the matter?" Morrigan said, playfully batting her eyelashes at him.

"I hate it when you do that." Alistair grumbled.

In due time, the party found its way back to Highever and Castle Cousland, where both Teyrn Fergus and the mage, Wynne, awaited them. As The Warden and company walked up the steps to the castle, the teyrn wrapped his arms around his brother in a big bear-hug, picking The Warden up off his feet in the process. "I get it. I get it. You're glad to see me." The Warden strained to say.

"I'm glad to see all three of you back here together. It's as it should be." Fergus said, approvingly. "So I take it there's a wedding to be planned, then?" he asked with a wink.

All eyes suddenly focused on the witch, including The Warden's. Turning her head to return her warden's gaze, Morrigan said, "Indeed, there is." bringing a smile to his face.

The bard's muffled squeal could only mean one thing, the witch knew, "Leliana, would you care to help me plan it?" Morrigan asked, causing The Warden and Alistair to both to a double take.

Leliana squealed joyfully and hopped in place like a little kid.

"I would take that as a yes." Morrigan said.

The old mage approached The Warden, "Warden, I believe I have something that might interest you." she said as she held out a rolled up piece of paper.

"Is that...?" he asked.

"I think you'll find what you are looking for on that script." she returned with a nod, causing Morrigan to raise her eyebrow at The Warden.

"What have you there?" the witch asked, gesturing at the paper in his hand.

"It's a surprise. I'll tell you about it later."

* * *

After the long ride back to Highever, The Warden, Morrigan, and Seth retired to the peacefulness of their private quarters in the castle. The witch was preparing preparing to give Seth his supper and lay him down for the night. The Warden stood at the open window, staring out into the village below. He was pondering everything that had happened to him over the past couple of years and how fast everything had gone. He lost his mother and father in the same night, fought the blight and stopped the archdemon, and then there was Flemeth and all she caused. But for now, at least, there was peace.

It was time for him to come to grips with where it all began. Tomorrow he would head to the larder, he decided, and put the past in its place. For good. Suddenly, the "thump! thump! thump!" of someone knocking at the door could be heard.

The Warden, seeing the witch otherwise occupied, walked to the door and opened it. Leliana stood in the hallway with a somber look on her face. Her large, blue eyes looked up at The Warden. "May I come in?" she asked.

The Warden cast a glance at Morrigan who shrugged her shoulders. "Sure." he replied, "What's up?"

"Actually, I wanted to talk to Morrigan. But you need to hear this as well."

The Warden and his witch traded another puzzled glance at each other. "What's this about?" he asked.

"Morrigan...what I did to you was hurtful and wrong. That is not the type of person I am. I'm sorry for the bet I made with Zevran."

"Bet? What bet?" The Warden asked, even more confused.

The bard lowered her head, "I bet Zevran five silvers he couldn't charm Morrigan into thinking he liked her."

"Leliana...that's just mean. I would never expect something like that from you." The Warden said, shocked.

"I know. I am ashamed I did it. Can you ever forgive me?"

"You already have been." the witch said.

"Thank you. I mean it." the bard replied, "You are good friends. Both of you."

"You're not so bad yourself, Red." he returned.

Leliana smiled at The Warden's statement. "Well...that's all I needed. I should get going and let you two have some privacy." she said as she turned to leave. "Let me know when you want me to help you, Morrigan. I can't wait to get started."

"We shall begin tomorrow morning." Morrigan said as the bard exited, closing the door behind her.

The Warden returned to his spot at the window while Morrigan finished feeding Seth, who would surely be taking his first steps any day. Over the course of their adventures, he had grown considerably, even cutting his first teeth. That was when Morrigan put him on solid food for the first time, after showing The Warden the red bite-marks their son had left on her breasts.

"I think he's teething." was all The Warden could offer at the time.

"Do you now?" the witch had responded sarcastically, "And where ever did you get that idea? Could it possibly have come from the large chunk of flesh missing from my bosom?"

The time had passed quickly, The Warden thought. His son was growing before his eyes. It wouldn't be long before they were celebrating the child's first birthday. Thinking of his son's birthday reminded The Warden that Seth's wasn't the only one coming up soon. "Are you ready for your surprise?" he asked the witch as he opened the chest where he stashed the script and withdrew it.

"I must admit, I am rather curious." she replied as she laid Seth down in his small bed.

"This piece of paper in my hands answers all the questions about yourself you had."

"Such as..."

"Your birthday, who both your parents were, and things like that."

"Where did you get such a thing?" she asked in amazment.

"Wynne was kind enough to find out for me."

"She did this at _your_ request, did she?" she asked, sounding annoyed, "And what makes you think I wanted such things pursued? Especially without my knowledge?"

"I just thought you might like to know, that's all. I wanted to surprise you with it." he said as he walked toward the burning fireplace, holding out the paper. "I can get rid of it instead if you like."

"No!" she exclaimed, grabbing his hand. "It would make little sense to waste Wynne's efforts." bringing a smile from The Warden. "How close was I?" she inquired.

"Fairly close. You were only off by two years."

"Older or younger?"

"Older." he answered, causing the witch to scrunch her face.

"So I am that much closer to being a wrinkled old hag." she huffed.

"Yeah, but you'll be the best looking wrinkled old hag around." he joked.

Morrigan giggled at her warden, "You are too kind." she said.

"Do you want to see it?" he asked as he held the paper out, which she snatched from his grasp with the speed of a cat.

The old mage had really outdone herself. Using a spell she was able to look into the past and see where and when Morrigan was born, and to whom. As it turned out she was the child of a couple who owned a tavern in Highever. The witch found this to be extremely ironic, but fitting. The script even divulged the reason behind Morrigan's golden eyes.

It seems that even Flemeth had no way of knowing whether or not a child would have magic talent. So the hag had devised a way to ensure Morrigan would be a mage. Using dark magic, she infused Morrigan's blood with a small amount of blood from a high dragon, turning the witch's eyes golden in the process. So ingrained was the dragon's blood within Morrigan that she had passed the same trait on to her son, making his magical abilities almost a certainty.

"To finally be made aware of these things...to, at last, know who I am completely...'tis...incredible. Words fail me. You have my thanks, truly." Morrigan said after she studied the paper intently.

Looking up at him, she purred seductively, "I suppose some form of reward is in order."

"I was hoping you would say that." he replied, moving closer to her.

Their lips met and their arms wrapped around one another. Deep, powerful needs drove them as they carelessly ripped each others clothing off. He scooped her up in his strong arms and carried her to their bed, laying her gently down as his lips drank deeply of her. His mouth trailed down her now naked body, his tongue driving her insane. Sensing her urgency, he climbed atop her, sliding between her parted thighs.

"I must have you now." she moaned as she reached around him, grabbing his fleshy cheeks, and pulling him closer to her.

"Yes!" she cried as he claimed his prize. "Yes...Oh...wait...no..._No!_...Not yet! DAMNATION!" she yelled out in frustration.

"Sorry." he said sheepishly as she rolled off her and laid next to her, "It's been so long. I couldn't help it." he muttered.

"You could not take matters into your own hands, as it were?" she huffed.

"I told you, I don't like doing that." he explained, trying to appease her, "There's two things wrong with it: I'm being touched by a guy, and I'm touching a guy. I can't get passed that. I'm sorry. Give me ten minutes, I'll be ready again."

It wasn't long before The Warden was able to make good on his promise as he and the witch enjoyed a night of total passion without interruption for the first time in a very long while. So intense was their love making that they named it. Gregory to be exact. And afterward, as she lay beside her warden that night, Morrigan thought of the future and what it might bring.

Everything that she and The Warden had they had to fight for. And even though Flemeth was gone, Morrigan couldn't help shake the feeling that more struggles lay ahead. Either it was the will of the gods that they be together, or their union occurred in spite of their wishes, the witch didn't know. But she swore to herself that she would be at his side no matter what.

He slid his arm behind her and pulled her closer to him. "Your desire?" she asked as her large golden orbs hypnotized him.

"Only you." he answered.

The End.


End file.
